Harry Potter, Jr and the Secret of the Ministry
by Pottermaniac
Summary: Junior's first year at Hogwarts. A dark force wants to bring the Muggle and wizarding worlds to war. Can bright and mischievous Harry Potter, Jr. save the peace process?
1. Prologue

Harry Jr. and the Ministry's Secret A/N: This first chapter sets up the story by filling in the blanks. The subsequent chapters will be from Harry Junior's point of view. 

Harry Potter, Junior and the Secret of the Ministry (Year 1) 

Prologue

It was his wife's voice. "Harry, wake up." 

Harry Potter opened his eyes slowly and adjusted to the dim lighting in the room. He tilted his head to his left to see Cho Chang Potter standing on the carpet, obviously determined to be patient with him. Her arms were crossed in front of her and her gaze was fixed on him. Her dark blue robes were wrapped around her loosely and her short hair was already set. She looked much younger than her age of thirty-one years. Harry smiled. "Morning." 

Cho grinned. "Good morning to you, too. It's 8 o'clock." 

"Cho, I can get ready in half an hour." The birds could already be heard chirping outside and light was passing through the deep blue curtains. 

"If you say so, honey." She looked at him as if trying to will him to get up with her stare. 

Harry sighed, reached for his glasses, and put them on. He pushed off the silk blankets, sat up, and then said, "I'm really sore from last night." He kept his eyes fixed on her. 

"So am_ I_," said Cho with half-hearted plaintitiveness. He could tell she was fighting back a smile. "They won't accept that excuse." 

Harry grinned. "You were magnificent as always." 

Cho blushed. "So were you," she said quietly. She suddenly glanced at her watch. "Honey, this isn't the time. I have to go drop the kids off at the Blacks'. Your breakfast is on the table." With that, she turned around, opened the white bedroom door, stepped into the hallway, and closed the door after her, her long robes swinging quietly behind her. 

Harry stared at her until she left, and then went out that same door to go take a quick shower. 

*** 

Harry showered, dressed, and descended the padded stairs. He downed the scrambled eggs and muffins while reading today's Daily Prophet. It was such a respected newspaper these days, unlike the way it was when he was a student. So many things had changed since then. Harry began reading the cover story, knowing beforehand exactly what it would say:   


First Global Wizard-Muggle Conference Today

Minister Ronald Weasley continues the work that his father, former Minister Arthur Weasley, began. Today's conference in London marks a historic time in Muggle-wizard relations and will include represenatives from fifty Muggle national governments, various wizarding institutions including the Ministry of Magic and all major wizarding academies, numerous religious organizations, and several non-human societies. 

"We hope to continue the dramatic improvements in wizard-Muggle relations that we have seen in the last eighteen years," said Hogwarts Headmaster Severus Snape. 

The main goal of this first conference is to promote understanding between the parties involved. In future conferences, the aim will be to solve mutual problems like the possible legislation of differing laws for wizards and Muggles. 

Weasley has consistently stuck to his beliefs despite public opinion. Last month, Weasley accomplished one of his early, unpopular promises--the dissolution of the prison of Azkaban. On a related note--   


"Harry?" 

Harry looked up from the paper to see his wife entering the front door. Her short hair looked as if it had been blown in the wind a little. 

"Time to go," she continued with a smile. 

Harry was already on his feet, paper still in hand. "Okay," he said. 

She nodded, and they both disapparated. 

*** 

They appeared in the Ministry office. The office was spacious, with both cedar and leather furniture, and the walls that encircled the room had light green wallpaper. Hermione Granger Weasley greeted them. "Right on time," she said. 

Harry and Cho exchanged pleasantries with their friend. Hermione was with child, and was eating some candy while speaking. She was still very pretty, despite the weight gain. 

Hermione looked at the paper in Harry's hand. "I'm glad that the Daily Prophet is encouraging these talks," Hermione said. "_They're_ not taking the popular side, either." 

When Hermione and Cho moved to the topic of the pregnancy, Harry's mind wandered somewhat. He could hear the sounds of workers frantically talking on Muggle telephones and computers, people writing letters furiously with top-of-the-line quills, and the screeching of dozens of disobedient owls. "It's already so busy," said Harry during a pause in the womens' conversation. 

"We like it this way," Hermione said cheerfully. She glanced at her watch, and then she looked up. "So how are things at Hogwarts?" 

"Great," said Harry and Cho at nearly the same time. 

"Your eldest will be going there soon, right?" Hermione asked. 

"Yes. Harry Jr.," said Cho. She smiled at her husband. Little Harry had literally jumped for joy when he received his acceptance letter to Hogwarts. Junior had green, almond-shaped eyes, but did not need glasses like his father. He was very obedient to his parents, and felt responsible for his younger siblings. He had his father's patience but his mother's kindness. He wasn't nearly as skinny as his father was at that age, and he was quite social. His hair was black and orderly, he was a bit short, and would likely become a great Quidditch player. It appeared that he had inherited his mother's intelligence, but his parents couldn't be quite sure. They had never really pushed him much yet, knowing that he would do plenty of growing up at Hogwarts under their watchful eyes. Whether he had inherited Harry's instincts was not clear either, but his parents wished that those instincts would never be necessary. 

"Marvelous," said Hermione. "I imagine it'll be a bit strange at first?" asked Hermione tentatively. 

"We think so," said Harry. "With Cho and me working at the school." 

"At least he already has a friend in my Jenny." Jenny Weasley had Hermione's wit, a unique sense of humor not unlike her father's, and the bad temper of both her parents. She was tall and had brown, curly hair. "Well, Ron should be ready to see you now. I have some business to attend to, but I'm sure you know where his office is. It's nice to see you again!" 

Harry and Cho said goodbye to her, and she rushed off. 

As Harry and Cho were walking down the hallway toward Ron's office, Harry said to Cho, "Shouldn't she be taking it a little easier these days?" 

"Not yet, Harry," said Cho. "It's only been a month." She suddenly giggled. 

"What is it?" said Harry defensively. 

"Honestly," she said lightly, "you still don't know anything about pregnancy. And your own wife's been through eight of them." 

Harry chuckled. "Well, I'm a guy," he said. He later regretted not thinking of anything better to say. 

"Really?" said Cho with mock curiosity as she raised an eyebrow. 

Harry chuckled again. "What I meant to say is that I don't pay attention to those kinds of things," he said, trying to save some dignity. 

"Well, you should," chided Cho gently. They stopped walking. 

Harry finally took his eyes away from her and knocked on a wooden door with a gold-plated name on the front. 

"Come in," boomed an enthusiastic Ronald Weasley. 

*** 

"Ron, how are you?" said Harry merrily as he and Cho entered. He heard Cho say, "Hi Ron," next to him. 

"Harry! Cho!" boomed Ron with equal mirth as he jumped out of his leather chair and bounded across the room to meet them. He gave Harry a manly hug. "It's good to see you, friend." He then shaked Cho's hand vigorously, saying, "Cho, you look lovely as usual." Her face colored slightly. He was beaming the whole time. "It's a great day, today. My father's dream, really. I'm glad he'll be able to see it realized." 

"He's really proud of you," said Harry. "He always has been." 

"Thanks Harry," said Ron. "Anyway, how are the kids?" 

"They're great," said Cho, the color returning to her face. "They know they'll miss each other when Junior goes to school, so they're enjoying these last few weeks together." 

Harry took in the office. This was his third visit, but it always amazed him how, well, _fun _it was. He could see posters on the wall, mostly movie posters featuring Ginny Weasley Malfoy and her husband Draco Malfoy in romantic roles. The remaining posters showed the Chudley Canons. On the expansive oak desk were various Quidditch trinkets, including a figurine of retired Quidditch legend Viktor Krum. Harry already knew that one of the gold-framed pictures showed the entire Weasley family, one showed a picture of Ron and Hermione's family, one showed Hermione alone, and the last one showed Ron with all of his best friends. Everything in the room was bright from the wallpaper to the carpeting, and the large full-length windows allowed Ron a great view of the city from his office on the tenth floor. 

"How are the girls?" Cho asked. 

"Well, Jenny's going to be in your little Harry's class, Mary's constantly got her nose in a book, and Lizzie, well, she never feels like working," said Ron with resignation. 

"Neither do you," teased Harry. 

"True," said Ron, "and I never will. Speaking of work, I don't want you to be shy about contributing your two knuts in the conference. You two have great experiences and a different point of view; that's why I asked you to come. We want to keep lines of communication as open as possible. The more honest everyone is, the better." 

"You can count on us," said Cho. Harry gave Ron a thumbs-up. 

"Great," said Ron. "The conference, as you know, starts at 10:00 downstairs. Have you had anything to eat yet?" 

Harry and Cho said yes. 

"Good," said Ron. A poster on the wall captured his attention. "Frankly, I think Ginny and Draco are just looking for an excuse to kiss and flirt with each other for a living. Oh, they've got movie star looks, alright, but this is getting ridiculous." 

*** 

  
  


The large, newly constructed Ministry Conference Room buzzed with energy ten minutes before the conference started. Harry and Cho found some seats next to some other Hogwarts professors. 

"Good morning, Severus," said Harry formally to Severus Snape. 

Snape looked at him sternly and nodded. He was obviously preoccupied with a scroll in front of him. "Do sit down," he said civilly to Harry without looking. 

"Morning, headmaster," said Cho lightly. 

Snape looked up, startled. "I'm sorry," he said. "Cho, so nice to see you. Please sit down as well." He then returned to reading the scroll in front of him, crossing out words and writing new ones in. 

"It's probably his speech," whispered Harry to Cho. 

"Maybe," whispered Cho back. She was staring at something. 

Harry looked down from their place high in the multi-tiered, circular conference room towards the stage and podium. Ron was already surveying the room, talking animatedly with several people at once. 

The lights came on, the large clock in the front said 10:00, and Ron Weasley ascended the stairs on the stage and walked to the podium, the room filling with applause as he did so. Ron quickly put his palms up when he reached the podium to tell them to stop, but they continued vibrantly. _He deserves it_, thought Harry proudly. A hand touched his shoulder, and he turned around. 

"Neville!" exclaimed Harry when he saw who it was. 

Cho turned around as well. "Hi Neville, how are you?" 

"I'm a bit late," Neville whispered as he sat down on Cho's left. The applause died down and everyone's attention turned to Ron Weasley. 

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen," boomed Ron's magically augmented voice, "to the first Global Wizard-Muggle Conference." 

There was more applause, which Ron had obviously anticipated. Harry took in Ron's expensive black dress robes. They reminded him of his Hogwarts days. 

"Let me just say," continued Ron's booming voice, " that all opinions are valued and that we will be civil. Grievances are for later. Now, several representatives have prepared speeches to begin this conference. But before we do that, I would ask all those who wish to participate in the invocation to please stand. Reverend Smith?" 

A black, white-bearded man solemnly rose from his seat behind one of the tables on the stage and approached the podium, and several dozen people in the seats rose as well, including Harry, Cho, and Neville. Reverend Smith turned on the microphone and those standing all bowed their heads in prayer. "Lord," he began, "we are all your children, regardless of the gifts with which you have endowed us. As such, we are all responsible for bringing about peace, fairness, and justice. Please help us to cooperate together in these efforts. Amen." 

"Amen," said a sea of voices from around the room. With that, the conference began. 

*** 

A few hours later, Madame Maxime's voice was heard from across the hall. "At Beauxbatons Academee, students master all ze major wizarding deesciplines and all standard spells, with ze exception of ze spells pertaining to ze Dark Arts." Harry, Cho, and Neville were startled when they heard the voice. They turned their heads to find, in the sea of unfamiliar faces, the large forms of Maxime and her husband, their beloved Rubeus Hagrid. He had obviously tried to look as presentable as possible, but he was still quite a sight. "Defense against Dark Arts, however," she continued, "_ees_ an important subject at ze school. All students are required to pass a comprehensive practical exam before graduation." 

"I'm glad they didn't have one of those at Hogwarts," whispered Neville to Harry and Cho. 

*** 

The conference was a great success, with Harry and Snape all contributing their knowledge and patiently answering the questions of curious and frightened Muggle diplomats. 

When Cho was answering one of these questions regarding the limits of wizarding medicine, a barrage of cameras suddenly flashed. Cho paused momentarily to readjust her vision, and then continued. 

"Your wife's going to be on the front page of quite a few Muggle papers," whispered Neville to Harry while Cho answered questions. 

"Pardon?" they heard Cho say to a particularly badly-phrased question. 

The man repeated it much more clearly. "I was wondering about the nature of house-elf employment in wizard households and institutions?" 

"May I field that question, Cho?" came the loud yet tentative voice of Hermione Weasley from across the room. 

Cho looked relieved. "Yes, Hermione, please do. Hermione Weasley is an expert on this matter." She smiled across the room at her friend. 

Hermione smiled back. Among other things, she was a wizarding anthropologist. She knew more about house-elf, vampire, and werewolf culture than half the academics combined. She cleared her throat, thanked Cho, and then went on to give the clearest and most thorough answer of the day. 

*** 

A/N: A slow start, I know. Meet Harry J. in the next chapter!   



	2. The Hogwarts Express

Harry Jr. and the Ministry's Secret Chapter 02 Disclaimer: I don't own J.K. Rowling's characters, locations, or ideas. 

A/N: Thanks for all of the helpful reviews! follow that monkey!, remember that Arthur and Molly Weasley had eight kids, too. Also, if you've read Relic of Power, then the "breeding like rabbits" thing makes more sense. (Not that you need to read R of P to understand this story). 

  
Chapter 2: The Hogwarts Express

"Quiet everybody, Mum's talking," said Harry James Potter, II urgently. 

Harry's seven siblings all hushed up and turned their attention to the television screen. 

Harry quickly scanned the room around him from his perch on the right arm of a long, brown, leather couch. The Blacks' living room was high on accomodations, partly because the couple expected to baby-sit the Potter children nearly everyday. The light blue carpet was vacuumed every afternoon after the Potters were picked up. There was a fragrant odor of varnish from the shining wood table on which the children had their toys and the homework that their teachers, their parents, had assigned. 

Harry met the smiling eye of one of his role models, Sirius Black. Sirius's intelligence and energy made him a wonderful story-teller, and the stories he told of daring escapades and triumphs over Dark wizards fascinated all of the children. Harry Jr., usually called just plain "Junior", and his siblings never knew their grandparents, and so they were constantly interrogating Sirius as to what James and Lily were like. They didn't hesitate, knowing that Sirius loved to reminisce on those days at Hogwarts. 

Sirius' wife, Katie Smith Black, was the sensible one in the couple. She made sure that the children ate reasonably and severely restricted their television watching. Watching this conference was one of the exceptions. 

Harry watched his mother on the television screen. She carried herself the same way as she always did and spoke quite eloquently. Of course, she was speaking on a matter that she understood well--wizarding medicine. Cho had been teaching Transfiguration at Hogwarts since the retirement of Professor McGonagall, but Junior's Mum also was a skilled physician in the case of emergencies that Madame Pomfrey, the school nurse, couldn't handle on her own. Her main qualities were showing on the television screen: her intelligence, patience, and gregariousness. 

Hermione Weasley began to field some questions. Harry considered Hermione a great friend who often seemed impatient to give advice, but who could be a great listener when she made the effort. The brilliance had clearly been passed down to Hermione's daughter Jenny, a friend of Junior's, but Harry actually found Jenny irritatingly condescending at times. 

"Mrs. Weasley," came a voice with a heavy Russian accent from offscreen, and the camera centered on a black-bearded man. "You have all mentioned something called Defense Against the Dark Arts, and I was wondering if you could explain exactly what this discipline entails," the man said. 

"Er, yes," said Hermione slowly. She looked offscreen, apparently across the room, and nodded at someone. "Yes, that sounds like a question for Harry Potter," she said. 

Suddenly, the sound of whispers appeared to fill the room, and some of the children were now leaning on the edge of the couch. 

"That's Daddy," whispered four-year old Maggie Potter excitedly. 

"Harry . . Harry Potter?" echoed the questioner uncertainly. 

"Yes," said a voice that Harry recognized to be his father's. "My name is Harry Potter, and I teach Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts school." He winked across the room, and Harry knew the wink was towards Hermione. "I'd be happy to answer your question." 

Harry and his siblings listened half-heartedly to the content of their father's speech, focusing mostly on the reactions of the crowd. Cameras flashed from all around the room. After Harry Sr. concluded his summary, he was assailled with various questions from people who Junior knew could only be Muggles. Questions about his battle with Voldemort, and his days at Hogwarts, and various others. 

"Does anyone want something to eat?" asked an eight-year old Bobby Potter. "I was going to get some potato chips." 

"Let me do that, dear," Harry heard Katie Black say. And she must have smiled to Bobby before Junior heard her leave the living room to get some chips for them. 

Harry was thinking about his Dad: so confident, strong, and noble--not to mention still madly in love with Cho. _Please, no more siblings_, he thought suddenly. He only wished that he could someday accomplish at least half of what his father had. 

An hour later, there was a sea of unintelligible voices, the people on the TV screen rose, and some music emanated from the television speakers; there was evidently a break in the talks for lunch, and a series of commercials began. 

"Everybody into the kitchen," said Sirius merrily. The children got up stiffly, Junior turned the TV off with a remote, and they all started chatting away about what they had just seen and heard. 

*** 

The Potter kids and the Blacks enjoyed a hearty lunch. The kitchen table was round and solid oak, with a thick, white tablecloth, fine china plates, and metal silverwear. The Potters didn't have so many luxuries at home, so they took advantage of their options. Sirius was already slicing the ham when the children entered. Harry sat next to Sirius, and Sirius handed him plates with slices of ham to pass around. 

Bobby sat next to Harry, Emily next to Bobby, and the other children sat around the table in a random order. 

After everyone had a piece of ham and some potatoes, they said grace. It was coincidentally seven-year old Grace Potter's turn to lead, and before she did, her siblings playfully teased her about it. "I like my name," she said in a dignified tone, and then she went on to lead. After that, everybody began to eat. 

In all the conversation, the boys marveled at the scale of it all. "All the important people were there," said Bobby. Several siblings mouthed their agreement. 

Ten-year old Emily Potter had seemed a bit distracted throughout. "Sirius," she finally said, "why can't they just treat our parents like regular people?" She looked at her caretaker apprehensively. 

"The Muggles need to gradually get used to our world, Emily," said Sirius patiently. "They've all heard of Harry Potter, if they've heard of anybody. So they'll learn about our world through learning about him." 

"Why don't they just read the history books?" asked Grace impatiently. "It's all there. Or better yet, they could read Harry, Ron, and Hermione's series about what really happened." 

"Gracie," began nine-year old Jessica Potter, "they want to hear it from the man in person." 

"I know Jes," said Harry with resignation. "But you know that Dad doesn't want all this attention." Junior washed down some ham with a gulp of orange juice. He was just as frustrated as they, but he knew they couldn't do much about it. 

"So Harry J.," began six-year old Thomas Potter, "where do you think you'll be sorted?" 

Harry appreciated the change of subject, and Sirius was apparently relieved, too, based on his facial expression. 

"Sorted _to_," said Emily. Everyone looked at her. "Sorry," she said. 

Harry looked back at Thomas. "Er, Gryffindor I guess, Tommy. If not, then maybe Ravenclaw," he said and shrugged. He didn't think much of it. 

"That's what I would think, Junior," said Emily matter-of-factly, "especially since Dad's the heir of Gryffindor and Mum might be the heir of Ravenclaw." She looked around. "Well, that's what Lindsay McCourt said at least," she added sheepishly. _(A/N: see Relic of Power for more details)._

Katie nodded respectfully. "I wonder if the Sorting Hat will tell you whether you really are a dual heir, Harry, " she said. 

"Hmm. . . " said Bobby. "They can't very well place him in two houses," he said. 

_That's obvious_, thought Harry. No one pointed it out, though, and he would be the last one to do so. Bobby was his closest sibling, and he would miss him along with the others. He looked around. Katie was helping out Maggie and her three-year old brother Joey with their food. Emily was secretly reading a book; the Blacks discouraged reading at the table during mealtimes. She looked up at him suddenly and put a finger to her lips. Harry flashed her a mischievous smile. 

*** 

The conference had resumed long before the Potters and the Blacks returned to the table. 

"Though it is beneficial to learn from the success of the past," Professor Snape was saying as the children took their seats on the couch and the Blacks stood behind the couch to watch, "it is imperative that we maintain constant vigilance in the case that another Dark wizard takes the place of Voldemort in the present." 

*** 

Harry was reading while sitting on the floor with the others when he heard the doorbell ring. It was the middle of the afternoon, and the conference had ended a few hours ago. Harry and the others rushed happily to the door, but Sirius had already opened it. Harry Sr. and Cho had arrived to pick up their litter, which always made the Blacks feel relieved. Harry turned around to see, as usual, that potato chips and pop cans were scattered all over the living room--especially the silk carpet. 

*** 

Harry finally arrived with his family at Platform 9 3/4. Though Harry's parents taught at Hogwarts school, they preferred to live in Godric's Hollow and fly to work every morning. That way, the Potter children would have to take the train to get to school, which Harry's parents had assured them would be a rewarding experience. 

Harry saw Jenny Weasley and William Malfoy talking on the platform, and made his way over to them. "Hi Jenny and Will," said Harry brightly. 

They turned around and greeted him merrily. They had known each other for their whole lives; though they only saw each other at most once a week, they wrote often. 

They had recently seen each other, though. The three families met together at Diagon Alley the previous week to buy supplies for the children. The parents talked incessantly--even Ron had found time to be there with them--while the children bought books, wands, cauldrons, and other necessities. Harry's wand at Fluorish and Blotts turned out to measure 7.2 inches, have a core of Holly, and it contained the feather of an Antarctic dove. That was interesting, considering his mother's Animagus form. Also, Harry's friends Jenny and Will had "been selected by" longer wands, with phoenix feather at the heart of Jenny's and Chinese Fireball whisker at the heart of Will's. 

"Aren't you excited?" asked Jenny, and it was obvious that at least she was. 

"Of course I am!" exclaimed Harry. He looked back at his family suddenly, and let them talk a bit with his friends. 

*** 

"Goodbye," said Harry as he waved to his family and the Blacks, and they waved back and said the same, his sisters and parents saying it in much more affectionate terms. 

Harry boarded the red train from Platform 9 3/4 with his eleven-year old friends Jenny Weasley and William Malfoy, his caged owl Hedwig Jr., and an overstuffed suitcase. He and his freads heard the whistle of the train a few minutes before it ascended into the air to take them and a thousand other students to Hogwarts. 

*** 

They found a compartment with a few other students and made the acquaintance of Charles Chapman, Melissa Thompson, and Julie White. 

Charles was a rather scrawny, shy boy who smiled easily and said little. His parents were both Muggles, and though the prejudice against "Mudbloods" had only the fraction of strength it had in the previous generation, he felt truly embarrassed of his parentage. 

"Don't be ashamed of it," said Julie sympathetically. She was a stunningly pretty pure-blood with straight, shiny black hair that ran down her back. "Look at Jenny's Mum. Hermione Granger is one of Hogwart's most illustrious graduates." 

Charles smiled weakly, and the encouragement of Harry and Jenny wasn't even enough to make him much happier. 

"Leave him be," whispered Will to Harry, and Harry decided that the advice made sense at this juncture. 

Another new acauantaince, Melissa, was quite excited with the opportunity to meet the children of such famous parents. "How does it feel to know that your Dad saved the world?" she asked Harry enthusiastically. 

"Multiple times," added Will quickly. 

"Er," said Harry. "It feels good," he said, not knowing what to say really. 

"Did you see the conference a few weeks ago?" asked Will to everybody else. 

"Your parents and mine attended," said Jenny to Harry. 

Harry nodded. "I saw it on the television." Everyone else said they had seen it as well. 

"Your Mums are real pretty," said Melissa to Harry and Jenny. 

"Thanks," said Jenny awkwardly. Harry awkwardly echoed Jenny's words a second later. 

For no good reason, Harry's eyes turned to watch Jenny. She was talking animatedly with Julie, and so she didn't notice. Jenny's features weren't as striking as Hermione's. Jenny had brown eyes, a small jaw, and brown, bushy hair. She was also taller than Harry was by three inches or so. 

Melissa's eyes lit up and she suddenly turned to Will, who had been staring out the window at the clouds. "Will!" she exclaimed. He turned around, startled. "Aren't your parents Draco and Ginny Malfoy?" 

"Er, yes," said Will. He certainly looked like a blend of the two movie stars. He was taller than average, with light hair and fair complexion. Harry realized, oddly, that Will's ears looked much like Ginny's. 

"What's your favorite movie that your parents have done?" asked Melissa eagerly. 

"Um, I don't like romances much," said Will quickly. All of the girls started to tease him about it as they tried to pry an answer out of him. "Okay, okay," he said. "'A Night in Paris' or 'Chocolate Soup'." 

The girls burst into laughter. Jenny was pointing at him with her right hand and muffling her laughter with her left. "You like '_Chocolate Soup_'? You?? That's the fluffiest one of them all!" 

Will looked at Harry, who was trying to contain himself. _Help me out_, is what Will's facial expression said to Harry. Harry sighed. Will would owe him for this. "I like 'Chocolate Soup' as well," he said loudly, trying to be convincing. 

The girls stopped laughing for a second with eyes bulging out of their sockets, and then they erupted into hysterics, pointing at both him and Will. Harry's mood brightened though, despite the color rising in his face, because he saw that Charles Chapman was chuckling quietly. 

*** 

They were still talking after half an hour. "Do you like Quidditch, Harry?" asked Julie. She seemed to be awfully interested in him, but Harry rather enjoyed her attention. She was quite pretty, he thought to himself. "Of course you do," she added quickly. "Your parents broke records. I hope to play for the school." 

Well, Cho didn't exactly break records, but Harry Sr. had obviously gone undefeated save his loss to Cedric Diggory, which everyone admitted wasn't a true loss. Cho had almost beaten Harry Sr. a few times, but Sirius had joked that it was just because Harry Sr. couldn't keep his eyes off her in the last few years. 

"So do I," said Jenny Weasley enthusiastically. Harry and Will suddenly turned their heads towards her. 

"You _do_?" said Will incredulously. "How come you never told _us_?" 

"Because I've just decided," Jenny said a bit quickly. A stray lock of hair fell in front of her face, and she brushed it away angrily with the back of her hand. 

On that note, the Hogwarts Express stopped at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. 

*** 

A/N: I'll speed up the pace in the following chapters. As far as answering how Harry Sr. beat Voldemort, Hawk Eyed Reviewer, I guess that's for another time. 

Yes, this was influenced a bit by Alicia/Sue's An Unlikely Coven. 

Can anyone think of a cool nickname for Harry, Jr. so that I don't have to say Harry Sr. every time I mention his Dad? Or should I just refer to Harry, Jr. as "Junior"? I know it sounds a bit like Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, but rest assured that Harry, Sr. and Harry, Jr. won't be riding off into the sunset on horseback at the end.   
  
  
  



	3. The Sorting

Harry Jr. and the Ministry's Secret Chapter 03 Disclaimer: I don't own J.K. Rowling's intellectual properties--characters, settings, etc. 

A/N: Thanks to all the reviewers. I agree with duo, and so I will use "Junior" from now on. I will pay special attention to your reactions to the characters--hint, hint :-)   


Chapter 3: The Sorting

Butterflies flew around in Junior's stomach when he heard the Hogwarts Express come to a screeching halt. He had a lot to live up to, but fortunately the only problems in the world for his generation had to do with political issues that he couldn't really affect. His father had specifically told him not to look for trouble. Junior had agreed with his father on the outside, but deep down he suspected that he had inherited his father's thirst for excitement. Of course, he never mentioned these wild dreams; his Dad knew that Sirius had told them stories, and Junior didn't want Sirius to take any blame. So Junior kept quiet. 

Junior looked at his friends. Will was doing a poor of job of hiding his excitement. Jenny was making no such effort; she kept whispering out loud to herself, "We're finally here, finally here . . . " Harry suspected she had had too much sugar on the train. 

The screeching sound stopped, and Junior heard students in his and nearby compartments noisily picking up their bags and chatting animatedly. 

"Have you heard about the unmanned carriages? The moat that surrounds the school?" Melissa asked eagerly to no one in particular. 

Everyone voiced the same wonder, especially Charles, who, considering his parentage, had never heard of any of it before. 

They disembarked together, with Junior bringing up the rear; it was silly of him to be so gentlemanly, he thought. He stepped out into the light after his friends and acquaintances, squinting at first despite the sky being gray outside and hinting at imminent rain. 

They could see the stone castle from there; its towers rose high into the sky. 

"Isn't it glorious?" said Jenny. 

"Bit of a strong word, Jen," said Will. "I'd say it looks drab and depressing." 

"I'll tell you what's drab and depressing," said an unseen and unfamiliar voice, "the fact that this place will be overrun by ignorant Muggles, turned into some tourist attraction for the impotent and mystically challenged, a symbol for the worldwide patronizing of Muggles we're sure to see in the near future." 

Junior and the others turned to see a tall, dark, athletic looking boy about their age. The boy observed them for a second, and then continued to Junior and Will and Jenny, "I'm Pallas Moore." 

"You're not welcome here," said Jenny coldly. "I'm Jenny Weasley, and I don't appreciate your criticism of my father's work." 

"And I'm Harry Potter, Junior, and my parents are working towards the same thing," said Junior, defending Jenny and his parents but somewhat interested in learning about this different point of view. "Unless you can be more civil about it," he added awkwardly, not really wanting to close the door on a friendship so soon. Jenny looked at him strangely, and then so did Pallas. 

"Your parents' work may have good intentions, but they're a bit misguided." He sighed. "Maybe we got off on the wrong foot," Pallas said with a strange expression on his face that showed that he was obviously not used to apologizing. 

"Appears so," said Will, whose face had been like steel for the last few seconds. 

"We can't all agree," said Julie as she entered the conversation. She took a quick glance at the castle, and Junior stole a look at the hair cascading down her back. "I'm Julie White," she said, extending a hand towards Pallas. 

Pallas took it. "Pallas Moore. It's a pleasure, Julie," he said formally. 

Junior watched Pallas introduce himself to Melissa. The new acquaintance was more stoic than Will, a bit aloof and radical maybe, but quite intelligent. The tall kid had broad shoulders, a short athletic haircut, and a strong looking jaw. His eyes were brown and revealed little emotion. 

Pallas outstretched his hand to Charles. "And what's your name?" he asked politely. 

Charles paused for an agonizing one second. "I'm Charles Chapman," he said finally and coldly as he shook Pallas' hand, "and I'm a Muggle-born." Charles eyes were visibly harboring anger. 

Pallas stared back, his eyes narrowing. "Ah," he began as they released their handshake. "Perhaps you misunderstood me. I don't hate Muggles; I just disagree with the way we're trying to blend our societies." 

"That's not what you said at all," said Charles coldly. Junior was watching the situation carefully, knowing that he would have to intervene before things got violent. "You said that you don't want wizards stepping down to _their level_." 

Pallas didn't flinch. "I said that it's patronizing to rub it into the Muggles' faces that we're more powerful than they are--we can do things they could only dream of--and then trying to make them feel better about their lack of ability. It's just soothing our consciences, because we feel guilty about our own powers." 

"That's not the point at all," said Jenny, understandably losing her temper over a criticism of her father's motives. "It's about a partnership, becoming a common community, putting our strengths together, taking care of each other." 

"I'm sorry," said Pallas slowly, "but that sounds like the same old rhetoric." 

"I'm sorry too," said Will angrily, "but that sounds like the very same patronizing that you hate so much." 

"Doesn't mean I can't use it to get my way," said Pallas without hesitation, "but as you can see, that doesn't make it noble. Same thing goes for the Ministry." 

Junior looked at the others, who seemed temporarily lost for words. He saw hundreds of students mounting the black, unmanned carriages on the lawn. 

"You're not noble at all," said Charles finally in a sharp tone, "but disguising a bigotry tolerable 15 years ago under the guise of playing the concerned citizen." 

Pallas had had enough. "I'm not going to hit you for being a Muggle-born," he said slowly as he rolled up his sleeves to reveal muscular forearms, "but because of that accusation." Pallas clenched his fists and moved to quickly close the gap between him and Charles. Junior made a move to step between them. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Will about to jump into the fray. 

"Hey!" shouted Julie angrily to them from a distance. "Do you want to go to Hogwarts or not? The last carriages are about to go." 

Junior breathed a sigh of relief. He had been intimidated by Pallas' obvious strength, and was not looking forward to trying to stop the fight. 

Charles hadn't flinched at all, and he was still staring at Pallas' back as Pallas made his way to the other carriage with Julie and Melissa. 

*** 

"The nerve!" said Jenny as soon as they had sat down in the carriage, with Will and Jenny sitting next to each other opposite him and a silently fuming Charles. "Who does he think he is?" 

"He's an idiot," said Will derisively. "Muscle-bound, pea brained idiot. It's as simple as that." 

Junior felt like defending Pallas, who was definitely not stupid. But Junior knew that Pallas did seem to have a prejudice and was planning to beat up a Charles who would have had no chance defending himself. "Yeah, he's an idiot," said Junior. He looked at Charles, who was staring at the floor red-faced. 

"Forget about him," said Will to an upset Jenny. "Look, we're almost at the moat. People are boarding the boats already." 

Junior saw Jenny look up outside the window, and then she turned her head a bit. For a brief second her eyes met his, and he quickly turned away to look outside the window as well. 

*** 

The carriage neared the edge of the water and came to a halt. Junior disembarked with the rest and they promptly rushed to get to a boat. They sat down in silence and let the boat take them across. 

"There's the Forbidden Forest," said Jenny, who seemed to be trying to get them to think of more pleasant things. 

Junior looked and his eyes lit up. 

"No way, Junior," said Will. 

"What?" asked Junior defensively. 

"I saw that look in your eyes. You're not adventuring, Junior. Look, I'm your friend, and I've been meaning to say this. Before you get any crazy ideas in your head about continuing our parents' _traditions_, I want you to know right now that I won't be any part of it." 

"Whatever you say," said Junior mischievously. "I am not going to just learn and make friends here; I'm going to do more." 

"Sounds like a Slytherin," said Charles, startling them all by saying something for the first time in a while. 

"Maybe . . " said Jenny uncertainly. "You know, it's not like when our parents used to go here. The Slytherins have different priorities from the rest, but a lot of them are good people." 

"Of course they are!" said Will with irritation. "My father--_and your uncle_--was one of them," he said with a tone of finality. Jenny must have forgot about Will's sensitivity to any anti-Slytherin statements. 

Charles looked a bit uncomfortable, but he continued uncertainly. "Harry, aren't you supposed to be a dual heir?" 

"I don't know, Charles," said Harry. "A few witches have said so, but they've all been full-blown loonies." He saw Jenny and Will's looks of disapproval. "Well, it's true," he said defensively. 

The boats stopped. Junior and his friends disembarked, and they arrived on the green grounds of Hogwarts itself. It smelled of freshly cut grass and it had started to drizzle. Junior looked up to see a large man in the distance who could only be the current groundskeeper, Rufus Cronus, a bearded fellow with a gruff expression on his face. 

"First years with me!" the man bellowed easily. Junior and his friends migrated to where he was attracting little children like a police station attracts runaway criminals. He looked at them sternly, and not one of them dared to make a sound. "Hmmph. Follow me," he grumbled, and the First Years obediently did so. 

The students entered the castle through the thick, wooden front doors. Everyone seemed to gasp at once. Junior observed the stone floors, took in the musty odor, and craned his neck to look at the concave ceiling overhead with its wooden planks. 

Jenny was talking animatedly now, pointing out various things she had recognized from her reading of Hogwarts, A History. "Do you see the paintings? The characters inside them actually move!" she squealed. 

Junior had already noticed that, and had only found it mildly creepy. He looked at Will, and they both rolled their eyes behind her back. 

When Junior saw who would be leading them into the Great Hall, he gasped--it was no other than Headmaster Severus Snape. Cronus stepped aside, and the children stopped without being told. Snape looked down his nose at the children with what looked just short of a scowl, and then he nodded at them. They nodded back. "Two lines, children. Follow me." He turned abruptly without waiting for a response, and the kids fell into two lines behind him. His hands pushed the door open, and he led them through the doors. 

The sounds of gasps--one from Junior's own mouth--surrounded Junior. He saw rows of long, wooden, rectangular shaped tables arranged on the same stone floor that Junior had seen throughout the castle. Golden candelabras hung suspended in the sky, and, speaking of the sky, Junior saw that the high ceiling was completely black save white spots that shone brilliantly like-- 

"Those are the stars," said Jenny excitedly. "The ceiling is enchanted to look just like the sky outside," she said importantly. 

"Ah," said Will, who was unable to hide his amazement. Harry almost chuckled. Did she think she was the only of the three whose parents had gone to Hogwarts? 

In the confusion, they and a recently silent Charles had separated themselves. Junior was too amazed by his new surroundings to pay attention to much else. Several hundred children chatted excitedly about this and that, likely catching up on summer experiences and just enjoying the chance to see these friends of theirs again. 

Snape pointed to a set of about 150 chairs, and the children promptly sat down. Junior saw Will sit down on his left and Jenny sit on his right. Snape walked briskly past the staff table and headed for the short staircase on the left side that would take him up to the raised platform. 

Junior excitedly looked for his parents and found them smiling at him and his friends. Junior's parents waved, and Junior and his friends waved back. 

A large, tattered black hat rested on top of a chair in the middle of the podium. 

The voices hushed at once as Snape reached the podium. "Welcome students to the start of another year at Hogwarts. I am Headmaster Snape. We will begin with the sorting. Professor Concolor?" 

A large man with a beard and long, brown hair mouthed something to the other faculty at this table, rose from his chair, ascended the stairs on the left, and reached the podium. He would have dwarfed the children had he stood next to them, and he was almost as tall as Cronus. 

Concolor! Now Junior remembered. His parents had mentioned the other teachers on a few occasions, but Junior had always gotten their names mixed up. Concolor had been an Auror and was quite helpful in the defeat of Voldemort. This was a man that Junior instantly admired. 

Snape yielded the microphone and returned to his seat. While the headmaster descended the short staircase, Professor Concolor pointed to the hat. To the surprise of many First Years--with the exception of Junior, Will and Jenny--a tear in the front of the hat opened up, and the hat burst into song: 

_More than a Thousand Years Ago_   
_Four did this school devise_   
_Gryffindor favored the brave,_   
_And Ravenclaw the wise_   
_Slytherin's chosen power did crave_   
_Hufflepuff's: loyal ties_   
_Before the Founders did part_   
_To sort the future kids by heart_   
_Gryffindor plucked me off his head,_   
_The four enchanted me_   
_So that every year I said_   
_To them where they will be!_

[A/N: It was an off year for the Sorting Hat]. 

The Great Hall erupted in the applause of a thousand students. Junior felt a bit more relaxed. He already knew everything the hat had said, but it was quite entertaining to watch. 

"First years," Concolor then said in a tone anything but gentle after clapping respectfully, "please put the hat on after I call your name, listen as it assigns you to a house, then sit with that house for the duration of the feast. When the feast is over, your house prefect will take you to your dormitory. Questions?" He stared at them, and Junior almost cringed. Junior knew that Concolor would be an interesting teacher. "All right." He grinned, but it looked more like he was baring his teeth. He unrolled a piece of parchment on the podium and took out a quill and ink bottle. "Appas, Karl." 

A small, blonde boy in front of where Junior was seated rose uncertainly, trembling slightly. He made his way to the hat and stuffed it on his head, his eyes disappearomg under the brim The hat shouted, "Hufflepuff!" The first student had been sorted. 

*** 

Junior and his friends whispered nervously to each other throughout the ceremony. Soon enough, they heard Concolor call out the name of one of their friends. 

"Chapman, Charles." 

Charles rose from his seat and walked, head down slightly, to the sorting hat. He picked up the hat, sat awkwardly on the short chair, and then stuffed the hat over his head. 

"Gryffindor!" it shouted immediately. This surprised Junior somewhat. Charles was an enigma--frightened and shy one moment, furious and defiant the next. 

Chapman was the first to be sorted to Gryffindor. He saw the cheering table that could only be the Gryffindor's. Junior had been watching the main tables and had judged that these kids were social and would be easy to get along with. 

*** 

"Malfoy, William." 

Will rose and made an effort to walk proudly to the hat. He stuffed it on, and Junior and Jenny watched on the edge of their seats. And the hat stayed on Will for a twenty second period that seemed like an eternity. "Gryffindor!" it shouted finally. Will looked relieved, and he flashed a smile at Junior and Jenny before he headed towards the cheering Gryffindor table, where Charles was clapping energetically. The Gryffindors seemed to have no problem accepting a Malfoy into their house, but Will was of course a Weasley as well; all the Weasleys went to Gryffindor. Junior looked at Jenny and smiled nervously. Was it a certainty that she'd go to Gryffindor, too? Then what if he wasn't also sent there? He wouldn't get to see his two best friends nearly as much. Suddenly, Junior desperately wanted to go to Gryffindor. 

*** 

"Moore, Pallas." Junior heard the room fill with whispers as Pallas rose from his seat and walked to the platform. 

Junior turned around to a stranger on the right. "How does everybody know Pallas Moore?" he whispered. "By the way, I'm Harry Potter." 

The boy's eyes lit up. "You're Harry Potter?" he asked incredulously. "Wow! I'm Jason Sargone." He held out his hand and shook Junior's vigorously. 

"Everybody calls me Junior," Junior said. 

"Okay, Junior. Now what were you asking?" continued Jason. "Oh right. Pallas Moore's family was attacked last month when the fact that they were wizards got out. Pallas and his mother escaped, but their father was killed." 

Junior glanced back and saw Pallas put the hat on. 

"And then what?" pressed on Jenny, surprising Junior with her interest. 

"Oh, the attackers were caught, but as Muggles they were prosecuted under Muggle law. They're in a prison somewhere in London, but Pallas wanted to give them Azkaban. Of course, a few weeks ago, Azkaban no longer existed. Pallas' Mum has sent some articles to the papers criticizing the global conferences and demanding the return of Azkaban." 

"Slytherin!" bellowed the Sorting Hat. Jenny actually gave a weak wave in Pallas' direction, and then Junior decided to do the same. Pallas was slightly startled, but he nodded towards them slightly. 

"I feel so stupid," said Jenny as they watched Pallas go to the Slytherin table. "I didn't know he lost his father to Muggles." 

"Um, didn't you see the conference?" asked Jason tentatively. "There were a lot of questions about the Moore incident around noon." 

"I haven't seen the Prophet in the last few days," said Junior. "And I was eating lunch then!" he exclaimed with realization. 

"So was I," said Jenny. 

"Ah," said Jason. He looked curiously from one of them to the other. 

Junior and Jenny turned bright red. "Not _together_!" they both exclaimed. 

*** 

"Potter, Harry." Junior heard murmurs and felt all eyes in the hall turn towards him, but he partly expected it. He walked stiffly up to the hat, sat down, and stuffed it over his head. 

_Interesting_, said the voice of the Sorting Hat in Junior's head. _I see mischievousness, quite a bit of intelligence, high loyalty, some ambition, but, well, not much courage_. 

That was not what Junior wanted to hear. _I have courage_, he mentally pleaded. _Somewhere inside me! I have to!_ he was thinking it so hard that he wondered if others could hear him. 

_No, I don't see it_, said the Sorting Hat. W_hat have you done that's brave? You've had the ideal childhood._

Was this a game? _Exactly_, thought Junior to the sorting hat, determined to win if it indeed was a game. _No acts of bravery yet, because they haven't been required. But I'll show courage someday. It's inside of me_. There was no response. _Come _on, he begged. 

There was another agonizing pause. _I suppose you do have some say in the manner. You're an exception after all, with Godric's blood running through your veins. Hmm. Your wish is granted_. There was a short pause. "Gryffindor!" it shouted loudly. 

Junior took the hat off and headed towards the Gryffindor table in a daze. 

"What _happened_?" Will blurted out. "It was on your head forever!" 

Junior looked at Will tiredly. "We had a disagreement," he said. 

Will was staring at him. "You're not . . . a dual heir?" 

Junior sighed. "It didn't tell me if I was, and I forgot to ask." Will looked extremely disappointed. "And Will," continued Junior. "Remind me to tell you what I heard about Pallas Moore. You too, Charles," he said sternly. Will and Charles nodded while looking at him suspiciously. 

Junior saw the approving looks of his parents at the staff table and smiled back. He then met the other students at the Gryffindor table. Third year Andy Glassman was a sensible kid, but his friend and fellow third year Daniel Samuelson was a jokester who considered himself hilarious. Tall fourth year Patrick Stone was another friend of theirs, and he played beater for the team. 

"We placed second to Ravenclaw last year," said Patrick bitterly. 

Linda Miller and Jolina Taylor were cheerful first years. Scott Jones and Marcus Hickleby were also first years, and they both excitedly asked Junior if he was going to try out for the team. Junior said that he definitely would, and Will said that he would as well. 

"You'd better," said Patrick solemnly. 

The prefect was a sixth year named Richard Weasley, who Junior and Will already knew really well. Richie was a tall, freckled, red-headed boy who used to have a tendency to lecture and fuss over the tiniest details. Recently, however, he had irritated his father Percy Weasley by becoming a bit more laid back. Penelope Clearwater Weasley, Richie's Mum, the one who always told Percy to relax, was probably a factor in Richie's personality shift. 

*** 

"Sargone, Jason." 

Jason rose and hurried to the hat. It stayed on for a minute, and then it shouted "Hufflepuff!" 

That wasn't so bad, thought Harry. He'd have a few classes with Jason in the upcoming years. 

*** 

"Thompson, Melissa." 

Melissa was sorted into Ravenclaw, to the bewilderment of Junior and Will. 

"She's _really _that smart?" asked Will as he and Junior waved at her. 

"Appears so," said Junior uncertainly. 

*** 

"Weasley, Jenny." 

Jenny got up nervously. She looked at Junior and Will for encouragement, and they gave her the thumbs up. She smiled weakly and headed towards the hat. 

As soon as she had put it on, it bellowed "Gryffindor!" 

'Yes!" Junior and Will exclaimed almost simultaneously. The hat had messed up her already disorderly hair. Her eyes were suddenly bright, and she looked like she was resisting the urge to skip over to them. 

"There's a surprise," said Daniel. "Another Weasley." The Gryffindors all laughed. 

Jenny sat next to Will and met the others. "What are the odds?" she asked, amused. 

Junior's eyes wandered to the remaining unsorted First Years. _Her_ name would be up any minute now. 

"White, Julie." 

Junior's eyes stayed fixed on her as she rose gracefully and headed toward the hat. She put it on her head without any hesitation, and the hat decided to spend some time deliberating with her. Junior felt like biting his nails while waiting. "RAVENCLAW!" it shouted finally. Julie managed a smile at Junior and the others and then went off to sit with the cheering Ravenclaws. It wasn't fair, thought Junior. 

*** 

The sorting finally ended, and then Snape thanked everybody and made a few comments about their hopes for the year. Then he waved his hand, and in front of each of a thousand students and faculty appeared the feast. There were large portions of roast chicken and potatoes and green beans off of silver plates, and they began to drink out of jeweled goblets. Junior and his friends stuffed themselves, praising the food and the castle as a whole to each other. The first years couldn't wait for their first classes, despite the older students' efforts to scare them with horror stories. 

"So how are the teachers here?" asked Junior, trying to sound casual. 

Will looked at him with mock disdain. "You really have no tact," he said. 

"Oh, you want to know what we think of your parents," said Andy. "They're two of the school's favorite teachers. Them and Concolor." 

"Your Dad knows his stuff," said Patrick. "He's very tough on us, but we enjoy his class immensely." 

"I don't think he'll go easy on you, Junior," said Will. 

"And I don't want him to," said Junior quickly. "I'm going to be treated the same as everybody else," he said in a tone of finality. 

"The girls think Professor Potter's so _cute_," said Scott mockingly. 

"Oh he's _divine_," said Linda shamelessly. 

"Cuteness personified," said Jolina. 

They started giggling, and Junior hid his irritation. Then he thought to himself, _Well, if they think my Dad's good-looking_, _then I must look pretty good_. He wondered what Julie thought. 

"And Professor Chang? Or is it Chang-Potter?" asked Jenny awkwardly. She and her best friends would have to get used to calling Junior's Mum by another name. 

"She doesn't mind either way," said Andy. "Or simply Professor Potter, unless they're both in the same room." 

"But it's hard to concentrate in her class, because all the boys tend to get lost in her eyes," said Daniel. Several other boys nodded with him. 

"You just have to focus on something else," Andy said casually in Daniel's direction. "And then try not to enjoy the sound of her voice too much," he added mischievously. 

"And I mean, that figure--" began Daniel. His friends burst into laughter and put their hands on top of their heads in frustration, as if Daniel had just dimwittedly mentioned the one thing that they had been trying not to bring up. 

"You are really grossing me out!" exclaimed a red-faced Junior. The new acquaintances only laughed harder. They regained control of themselves a little bit later. 

"We were just trying to annoy you," teased Andy. 

"Well, you succeeded admirably," said Junior with irritation. He forced a chuckle and an apology about losing his temper, but he still thought it was pretty disgusting. 

"And Felix Concolor, who teaches History of Magic," said Patrick, who was obviously trying to change the subject. "He'll keep you awake, and he's really tough." 

"So I've heard," said Will. 

"And potions . . " began Andy. He shuddered. 

"What's so bad about potions?" asked Jenny nervously. Junior had relayed to Will and Jenny what his parents had told him about the staff, but Harry Sr. and Cho hadn't warned him about the potions master. 

"You'll see," said Daniel. "Snape made sure to get someone like him to replace him. Tyrus Spate is not to be trifled with." 

*** 

The banquet ended, and Junior and his Gryffindor friends, feeling like they were about to explode from eating so much, rose slowly to follow Richie as he led them out to the hall to the dormitory. They walked down the wide, main corridor, ascended myriad winding staircases, and walked through one musty secret passage along the way to the dormitory. 

"This was the long way," said Richie when they finally arrived at the portrait hole, but it's the easiest to remember for now." There was an old lady at the portrait hole who looked much like the description that was in his father's books of _their_ portrait lady. 

"Phoenix song," said Richie casually. 

The lady in the portrait swung open to reveal the common room. 

"Oh Richie," inquired Jenny just before she and Junior and Will went through the portrait hole, "who's our head of the house?" 

"I almost forgot!" exclaimed Richie. He looked at his first years. "The head of the house is Felix Concolor." 

*** 

A/N: It took me forever to invent all of those students and teachers. I hope the next part won't take so long for me to write. May I remind you that I will pay special attention to feedback on the characters? 

Approximate age of Hogwarts obtained from Cassandra Claire's Draco Sinister. 

Concolor's name is derived from the Latin name for the mountain lion, or cougar: _Felis concolor_. Name obtained from: http://www.desertusa.com/may96/du_mlion.html 

I found the names for the Greek titans Pallas and Cronus on http://www.pantheon.org/areas/mythology/europe/greek/articles.html. 

--4/28, Philip "Pottermaniac" Gonzales 


	4. Subjects and Rulers

Harry Jr_ and the Ministry's Secret Chapter 04 Chapter 4: Subjects and Rulers   
by Pottermaniac   


A/N: Thanks to all the reviewers so far. I apologize for the delay. The plot took a while to crystallize in my mind. 

*** 

That night, Richie had lumped Junior, Will, Charles, Scott, and Marcus in the same dorm room. The boys had unpacked and talked until midnight. Then they had all decided to go to sleep. 

However, Junior hadn't slept well that night. He daydreamed for hours about what he would accomplish at Hogwarts before sleep came over him. 

"Junior, get up." That was Will's voice. 

In his dreams Junior had had several adventures last night. By the time Will woke him up, he had performed two daring rescues and won the hand of Julie White. 

Junior felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned over. "I'm awake," he said groggily to Will. 

"We were going to get breakfast," said Charles. 

"Okay," Junior said. The clock read 7:30, so he decided not to take a shower. He got dressed and slipped his feet into his shoes. "Let's go," he said. 

*** 

The Great Hall was full of chatter when Junior and his roommates entered. Jenny was already there at the Gryffindor table, and it appeared that she had already finished breakfast. "Hi you guys," she said. 

Junior and Will said hi to her and grinned. 

"Just in time, too," said Patrick. 

Junior heard a whooshing sound and turned towards the sound's origin. Hundreds of owls flew into the hall through the main entrance. The owls' claws held envelopes, and soon the owls made their deliveries. Junior and his friends looked at the identical envelopes that had dropped in front of them. 

"Ooh, these are the schedules," said Jenny. 

Junior and his friends opened the envelopes savagely and took out the schedules. "Our first class is potions with the Slytherins," said Will sadly. 

"But then we've got History at 9, DADA at 10, and . . transfiguration at 2," said Junior distractedly. 

"Magical creatures, charms, and herbology on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays," said Jenny as she looked down at the schedule. 

"And we've got three hours a week of potions," said Will grudgingly. "Figures, since Snape's running the school." 

Junior looked up potions on the schedule. "Double potions on Friday _afternoon_?" 

"With the _Slytherins_," said Marcus regretfully. 

Will scowled at Marcus, who suddenly apologized profusedly. 

"Interesting," said Jenny distantly. 

Junior and Will looked in her direction, and Junior saw that she was holding the Daily Prophet. "What is it?" he asked. Jenny had been a long-time subscriber to the paper. 

"Look," she said. She handed the paper to Junior and Will, pointing at the cover story:   
****

**Ministry Action Sparks Ugly Protest******

**Yesterday, activist Alicia Wilson led hundreds of wizards and witches in a protest of the upcoming second Global Wizard-Muggle Conference. The protest occured yesterday just outside the Ministry's headquarters in London, and it turned ugly shortly after Minister Ronald Weasley gave a prepared statement from inside the building. The statement said that the next conference would focus primarily on issues regarding the wizarding and Muggle judicial systems.******

**"What about Richard Moore?" read a large percentage of the protesters' signs. Richard Moore was slain by wizard-hating Muggles last month. The ministry apprehended two suspects, brothers Michael and Larry Clark, a few weeks ago. They received a quick trial, and were sentenced to life without parole in a Muggle prison in London.******

**Wilson and her fellow protesters demand the reopening of the prison of Azkaban. Many wizards and witches feel less safe due to the prison's closing, but most wizards trust Weasley's judgment. The protesters argue that Azkaban is the only deterrent against acts of violence motivated by hatred for wizards.******

**Several Muggle diplomats who are staying in the city for the time being reported being victims of verbal harrassment from Wilson's protesters. Victoria Matthews, an American Muggle diplomat, became especially irate with the protesters' comments. She confronted the group, and then a still-unidentified man performed a hex on her. She is currently recovering at a hospital in the city.**

*** 

Junior, Will, and Jenny followed the other students, descending a staircase into a dark and musty dungeon. They carried their heavy, pewter cauldrons in front of them and had several books stuffed in their bags. Jenny talked a mile a minute, trying to straighten out with them all the material she had read over the summer. 

"_Jen_," interrupted an irritated Will. "Will you stop talking? We can't help you. Junior and I barely looked at the potions books over the summer." 

Jenny's jaw dropped, and she goggled at them. "Why _not_?" she managed. 

Junior and Will shrugged. They walked in silence until they reached Spate's dungeon. Charles was not saying much, probably because he was thinking about his near-fight with Pallas. Pallas was a Slytherin, and so he would be in their class. 

Spate's dungeon was dark and had a funny odor. Junior noticed the smell of dust, the bare stone walls, and several wooden shelves. Glass flasks of ingredients rested on each shelf, and they appeared to be organized throughly. The wooden desks were arranged in rows, with plenty of space between desks in the same row. Each desk had several vials full of colored liquid and several containers with herbs inside. The desk spacing would allow room between desks for the students' cauldrons. 

The students filed in, and set their cauldrons down on the stony floor. They all breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that they wouldn't have to carry the cauldrons again for a long time. Junior looked at the Slytherins. Pallas didn't appear to be a close friend to any of them, though he did exchange small talk with them. Pallas' cauldron was dropped in the front row, still quite a distance from the professor's desk. 

Junior and his friends dropped their cauldrons near the back of the class, behind another set of desks. A man stood at the front of the class, watching the students with a cold stare. This must be Professor Tyrus Spate. Spate's arms were crossed in front of him. He was a gaunt man with short, black hair. His skin was pale, and he had dark circles under his eyes. There was a clock on the wall above Spate. Its minute hand reached 12. It was 8 o'clock, and time for Junior's first class at Hogwarts to begin. 

"Good morning to you all," said Spate. Junior wasn't sure how much sincerity was in that remark. "Welcome to Hogwarts, and welcome to potions class. My name is Professor Spate. The goal of the course is to become proficient at all of the basic potion-making techniques. " He looked them over, and his arms were still crossed. "Does anyone know what Rhodus potion is?" 

Junior didn't know. He looked around at his classmates. Jenny raised her hand. A second later, so did Pallas. Then, it looked like Charles was about to raise his. 

"Yes?" the professor said as he pointed at Jenny. 

She cleared her throat nervously. "Rhodus potion makes things turn red." 

"Yes," said Spate. "Today we will make this potion. First one to make it successfully earns 10 points for their house. If you finish before class is over, you may be excused from class. Before I let you get started, I would like to have a quick word with the Gryffindors here at the front of the class. You others can begin. The instructions are on page 48 of your textbooks." 

Junior and the other Gryffindors rose from their seats and walked towards Spate's desk. Junior felt slightly suspicious of the professor's motives, because he remembered what he had heard about Spate at the banquet. 

"Hello, Gryffindors," said Spate merrily. 

The students said hello back. 

"I don't know your names," Spate said in a cheerful tone. "I'm the head of Slytherin house, so I will get to know all of my Slytherin students' names eventually. Can we start with you, please?" He pointed at a Gryffindor girl that Junior didn't know. 

"Kelly Baker," she said. 

This went on for roughly three minutes. Spate occasionally asked where a student was from. 

Then Junior and the other Gryffindors returned to their seats. Junior felt cheated. He and the others started moving quickly in order to make up for the lost time. 

"Unbelievable," muttered Will to Junior. It was fortunate that they were at the back of the class. 

"That is so unfair," said Junior. He glanced at Jenny, who did not appear to be paying attention to them. 

They continued working in silence.   


> ***

  
"Done!" said Jenny loudly and confidently after forty minutes had passed. Junior was impressed, and it looked like Will was as well. She was the first person to announce that his or her potion was finished. 

They looked at Spate, who continued to monitor the students as if Jenny hadn't said anything. Jenny looked bewildered. 

"Finished," said Pallas glumly from the front of the room. 

"Excellent," said Spate brightly. He walked briskly over to Pallas' cauldron and picked up a wooden spoon from Pallas' desk. His hands dipped the tip of the spoon into the cauldron, and the handle in Spate's hand turned red. The spoon was raised up, and everybody saw that the entire spoon had been turned that same color. "Good work," he finally said. "Hmm. A bit too dark. More squill and less juniper would make it perfect. You're in Slytherin, right?" 

"Yes," said Pallas. "I'm Pallas Moore." 

"All right, then. Ten points to Slytherin," said Spate. "You may go now, Pallas." 

Pallas nodded. He looked as surprised as Junior. "Yes sir," he said. His hands stuffed his books into his bag, and then he left. He turned his head towards Junior and his friends as he left, and there was an apologetic look on his face. 

Junior heard a sniffle to his right. That's where Jenny sat. He looked to his left and saw Will's red face. The blood began to boil in Junior's veins as well. But he wasn't going to risk making things worse. If he snapped, he might lose points from Gryffindor or get a detention. And this was only his first class at Hogwarts! He had returned to making his potion, his hands grinding some squill with mortar and pestle. Class would be over in five minutes. 

*** 

Class ended, and the students got their books. Junior and his friends left the room in silence and saw Pallas standing out in the hall with crossed arms. 

"Let me explain," pleaded Pallas to them when he saw them. His facial expression, however, was stoic. 

"Get lost," snapped Will. 

Junior didn't feel too much sympathy for Pallas. Jenny was Junior's friend, and she was on the verge of tears. He saw Pallas shrug and then walk away. 

As soon as they had walked a considerable distance from where Spate would be able to hear them, they all started talking at once. 

"That was horrible!" exclaimed Junior. 

"What a git!" exclaimed Will. He had picked up the term "git" from his uncle Ron. 

"That was not fair!" said Jenny. Junior saw that tears were running down her cheeks. "I was the first one, and the Slytherins had a head start! What am I supposed to do?" 

Junior didn't know what to say. 

Charles finally broke the silence. "He sent us a message." 

"Message?" asked Junior. 

"Yes," said Charles. "The message is: Gryffindors, don't bother trying to get any points in _my_ class." 

Junior knew that it was true. 

*** 

They made their way to Concolor's classroom for History of Magic. The other Gryffindor first years caught up with them and offered sympathetic remarks. Junior and Will cheered Jenny up by talking about how fun History would be. 

The classroom appeared in the distance, on the right side of the hallway. Junior and his friends rushed to the door and opened it. The classroom was well lit, and the windows let in the fresh air from the outside and offered a third story view of the grounds. 

Concolor was sitting in his desk with a pair of reading glasses, poring over what looked like his notes for the lecture. The long hair on the side of his head nearly reached down to the desk itself. 

Junior and his friends sat at the back, still discussing how they had been cheated. 

All the students had sat down by the time the clock struck 9 o'clock. Concolor had been looking at the clock, and now he rose from his seat. "Good morning," he said. 

"Good morning professor," the students responded in a frightened monotone. 

Concolor grinned. "I'm going to ask some questions. If I call on you, then please state your name before answering. I'd like to get to know you all." Junior and the others nodded. "All right. "Who was Grindenwald?" 

A few students, including Junior and Will and Jenny, rose their hands. 

"Yes?" said Concolor as he pointed to Jenny. 

"Um," she began. "I'm Jenny Weasley," she said nervously. "Grindenwald was the most powerful dark wizard of the mid-twentieth century. He was defeated by Albus Dumbledore." 

"Right," said the professor enthusiasticaly. He put his hand in a container on his desk, and the hand came out of the container with a wrapped piece of candy. "Catch," he said. 

Jenny held her hands out. Concolor lobbed the piece of candy over to her, and she caught it. "Thanks," she said happily. She was evidently in much higher spirits now. 

"Now," Concolor continued, "who was Lord Voldemort?" 

Every hand in the classroom that belonged to a student shot up into the air. "Yes," he said as he pointed at Julie White. 

Junior took advantage of the opportunity to stare at her. Melissa was sitting next to her. "Er," she began. "I'm Julie White. Voldemort was the most powerful Dark Wizard of recent times. He was defeated by Harry Potter almost two decades ago." She gave Junior a knowing look, and he felt himself blush. 

"Excellent," said Concolor. The hand shot into the jar, and then the candy was lobbed into the air. Julie caught it easily. 

"Thanks, professor," she said. 

"Right," said Concolor. "So is there a connection?" 

Will raised his hand quickly, and he was called on. "Will Malfoy, sir. Yes. Doesn't it show that history repeats itself?" 

"Exactly," said Concolor. Will eventually received his piece of candy as well and thanked the professor. "Well-put Will," continued Concolor. "History repeats itself. Now, I assigned you to read this material from the textbook over the summer, but I suspect that not all of you finished it." 

Some of the students laughed nervously as Concolor turned his back towards them. The right hand picked up a piece of chalk, and he continued speaking. "We're going to discuss a few key facts about Grindenwald and Voldemort. But this is just to get you started, because for Thursday you're going to write a three-length long scroll comparing and contrasting these two Dark Wizards." He cracked his knuckles loudly and raised his right hand to the board. "Right," he said. "Let's get started." 

*** 

The class went well. Concolor knew the material thoroughly and encouraged discussions. Of course, he had personally assisted in the defeat of Voldemort. Junior wasn't sure why he hadn't had a chance to meet Concolor before. 

"Harry," said Concolor as soon as class had been dismissed. 

Junior turned around. "Me?" he asked. His friends had turned around as well, but everybody else was filing out. 

"I'm one of your parents' friends," the professor said. 

"Er, yes," said Junior. "They've mentioned you a few times." 

"Well, yes," said Concolor. He looked uncomfortable and had his hands behind his back. "Well, I gave them an unusual request, and they reluctantly obliged. They were not supposed to tell you too much about me before you met me here." 

Junior was confused. His friends quickly mentioned that they would meet him outside, and then he was alone in the room with the professor. 

"You see," continued Concolor, "I'm quite set in my ways. I didn't really want to know one student much better than any of the others before class started. That might sound strange, but that's just something I do. Obviously, your parents already know you, but I think your parents would do a better job than me at being objective. During your seven years here, we'll get to know each other well enough. I just thought you should know, Harry." 

"Okay," said Junior. He was still slightly confused. "Er, could you please call me Junior?" 

"Sure. Junior," he said. "I'll see you in class on Thursday, then?" 

"Yes, sir," said Junior, and he walked out of the classroom. 

*** 

Junior relayed the conversation to his friends. 

"Well, _he's _a bit of an oddball, then," said Will. 

"Speaking of your parents," said Jenny. "We'd better hurry to your father's class. DADA starts in five minutes!" 

Without another word, they bolted off in the same direction as the other Gryffindors had gone a few minutes before. 

It took a lot of effort for them to catch up to the others; they were panting when they arrived at the classroom. They entered just in time and sat down in the back. 

Junior looked at his father, who was smiling back at him. Harry Potter, Sr. was his hero for countless reasons. Whenever anybody asked him anything about his father's adventures, he always knew the answer. He hoped that someday his children would look up to him the same way. 

Dark black robes hung from Harry Sr.'s broad-shouldered frame. In the professor's left hand was one of the most famous wands in the history of wizardry. If not for this wand and if not for its owner, the wizarding world today would be suffering unspeakably under the reign of Voldemort and the Death Eaters. In his right hand was a white piece of chalk. 

The green eyes darted around the room and then up to the clock. 

" . . . Herculean Adonis," whispered a voice to Junior's right. Jolina was talking conspiratorially with another girl who Junior barely recognized. They both giggled, and Junior rolled his eyes. 

The clock on the wall facing them struck 10. "Hi," said the professor. "I'm Harry Potter." He turned around and began to write his name on the blackboard. The students all burst into laughter, and then so did Harry. 

He turned around and looked at them with a silly grin on his face. "It sounds like you already know my name, but I don't know yours'." He looked at Junior and his friends. "Well, _most _of your names I don't know. If you like, add an interesting detail. So how about we start with this young lady at this end of the front row." He pointed at a brunette that Junior vaguely recognized to be a Slytherin and smiled. 

"I'm Stephanie Lane," she said stiffly. "I want to be the Minister of Magic someday." 

"Excellent," said Junior. He nodded at the person to her left. 

"Colin Mason," said the boy. "I'm a Gryffindor from London." 

"Great city," said Harry, Sr. 

"Yes it is," echoed the boy. 

It was Pallas' turn. "Pallas Moore," he said. 

What would Junior's father say now? 'I'm sorry for your loss'? 

Harry Sr. didn't say anything. Pallas just stared at him. A second took forever to pass. "My favorite color is blue," Pallas finally said with a grin. 

"Mine too," said Harry cheerily. Laughs were heard around the room. Harry nodded at the next person. 

Was that just a standoff? What did Pallas exactly think about Junior's father? These questions troubled Junior while the others introduced themselves. 

*** 

"I'm Jenny Weasley," said Jenny when it came to her turn. Junior was glad to see her feeling comfortable again. "And I'm your son's friend," she said. 

"Which is a good thing for him," said Harry the professor. Some students laughed with him. Junior laughed especially hard. "He needs a sensible person to hang around with." 

"Unlike me, Will Malfoy," chimed in Will with light-hearted sarcasm. 

"My point exactly," said Harry Sr. There were more laughs. 

"I'm actually very sensible," said Junior with mock indignation. "I'm Harry Potter, Jr, in case you don't remember." There were more chuckles. "I hope to play Quidditch for Gryffindor, just like you did." 

Harry smiled at his son. "I know you'll do great." Junior beamed. Harry nodded at Charles on Junior's left. 

"Charles Chapman, sir," said Charles. His voice was quiet. "This whole place staggers me." 

"It staggers me too," said Harry, "and I've known this place since I was eleven." Charles chuckled. 

"You're still eleven," muttered Junior under his breath. He smiled innocently at his father. 

"What was that, Junior?" said Harry with a grin. He looked at the clock. "All right. Let's get something accomplished before the hour ends, shall we?" There were nods around the room. He took out a transparent box from behind the desk. It had a small hole at the top and what looked like a locked door on one side. The students gasped when they saw what was inside. In the center of the box scowled a winged, rat-like creature. It was grey, with long black fingernails and long whiskers. Strange noises that sounded like a different language came out of its mouth. "Does anyone know what these are?" asked Harry. 

Apparently none of the students did. The creature kept talking out loud; it sounded like it was cursing. 

"This is a Mupa. They're quite belligerent creatures. Several different types of spells will subdue them, so you can be creative. I'll give you an example." 

Harry stood a few feet away from the box and pointed his wand at what appeared to be the door. "Alohomora," he muttered. 

The door flew open and the Mupa used its bat-like wings to fly out, making all kinds of racket as it did so. Its long tail whipped around and pointed itself at Harry. The tip lit up, and Junior realized that the tail was being used as a sort of primitive wand. 

"Petrificus," muttered Harry calmly. In an instant, a green flash of light shot out of Harry's wand and turned the Mupa into stone. Harry's feet propelled him to the middle of the room in time to catch the falling Mupa in his hands. The professor's hands placed it in the box and closed the door. All eyes were on him. He pointed his wand at the center of the box from a small hole at the top. "Reanimus," he muttered, and a yellow stream of light flowed from his wand. The creature sprang back to life. It yelled in its native language more furiously than ever. Harry continued. "Mupas, like vampires, seek to drink human blood." Junior gulped, but he saw that Pallas was cool and confident. "The easiest thing to do is to petrify them; I'll do the rest. Volunteers?" 

Pallas Moore raised his hand. He was so competitive. Well, Junior wasn't going to go down without a fight--especially not in front of Dad. Junior raised his hand as well. 

"All right then," said Harry. "First Pallas, then Junior. Anybody else?" No other hands went up. "All right." 

Pallas rose from his seat, wand in his right hand. He and Harry stood a long distance away with their wands pointing at the box. 

"Ready?" asked Harry excitedly. Pallas nodded. "Alohomora," muttered Harry. 

The creature flew out again as soon as the door opened. 

"Petrificus," said Pallas. A dark blue light began to shoot out of Pallas' wand, but then it retracted. "Petrificus!" Pallas exclaimed louder, petrifying the Mupa just as its tail began to point towards him. Harry caught the creature and placed it back in the cage. 

"Great job," said Harry. 

"It didn't work the first time," said Pallas dejectedly. "I didn't concentrate hard enough." 

"That's normal," said Harry with a smile. Pallas nodded weakly at Harry and returned to his seat with his head down. The creature was re-animated as before. 

Junior rose quickly. He had his chance now. Fame and glory, here he came! As Harry had done with Pallas, the two Potters stood at one end of the front of the room and aimed their wands at the door of the box. 

"Alohomora," said Harry. 

The creature flew out, more aggressive than ever. 

Junior fought the urge to panic. He tracked the creature with his wand. "Petrificus," he said uncertainly. A weak green light fizzed out after shooting out of Junior's wand. The creature bared its pointed teeth at him and began to fly towards him . . "Petrificus!" Junior boomed. A powerful green light burst forth from his wand, and it was so powerful that he staggered back a little from the recoil. The creature turned to stone again, and Harry caught it and stuffed it in the box. 

"Great job as well," said Harry proudly to his son. 

Beads of sweat were on Junior's forehead, and his breathing was rapid. "Th . . thanks," he said. He also walked back to his room feeling dejected, but he kept his head up to disguise it. His father was beaming at him, but Junior felt like a failure. He had had his chance to go one up on the competition, but instead he and Pallas were tied. Junior had problems concentrating on the action as the other students had their tries with the Mupa. The best performances from the others involved three or four tries with the spell, and there was never any real danger. Everyone else returned to their seats with smiles on their faces, but Junior knew that he and Pallas had a silent competition going on. Neither one of them would be happy until he had an advantage over the other. 

*** 

Harry Sr. accompanied Junior and his friends on their way to lunch at the Great Hall. 

"So how's your first day been?" asked Harry Sr. 

Junior looked at his friends cautiously and decided to pre-empt them. "Everything's been great, Dad," said Junior. His friends gave him strange looks, but didn't say anything. "Potions, Magical History, and your class were all great." 

"I'm glad," said Harry. He smiled. "I've heard that Professor Spate doesn't give many points to Gryffindors." 

Junior felt exceedingly uncomfortable lying to his father, but he didn't want to have to rely on his father for anything. "Well, we didn't earn any today," Junior said. "But the Slytherins only got 10." 

"I see," said Harry. 

They finally reached the Great Hall, and then Harry parted with the kids. As usual, Junior saw his Dad's eyes light up upon seeing Cho. Junior waved at his Mum. She was wearing blue again, which his Dad had often said was her color. It was no surprise for Junior to hear in class that his Dad loved blue. 

"Let's go eat," said Junior. "I'm starving." The others nodded. They reached the Gryffindor table and sat down, exhausted already. 

"Why didn't you tell your Dad about Spate?" asked Will bitterly. 

"You know," said Junior. 

Will just looked at him sternly. Jenny had a concerned expression on her face. "Honestly," Will replied. "We're just going to have to work harder just to keep up with the Slytherins." 

"We'll be fine," said Junior confidently. 

"I think you should have at least hinted at something," said Jenny. "You know, lying is wrong." 

"Uh huh," said Junior distantly. He wasn't really paying attention anymore. Julie's eyes had captivated his attention from across the hall. 

*** 

Junior and his friends returned to the common room with full stomachs. Junior dropped his heavy bag in his dorm room and replaced the contents with his transfiguration books. 

A couple games of wizard chess helped pass the time before they decided it was time to leave for transfiguration. 

*** 

It didn't take as long as they expected to reach the transfiguration room. As they approached the door from the hallway, they saw that the door was slightly open. They heard a male voice say, "Orchideous," which Junior recognized to be a spell that made flowers burst from a wand tip. 

"Ah! Please don't scare me like that," said a female voice that Junior thought he recognized. He heard her giggle. "Well, these _are _really nice," they heard her say sheepishly. 

Junior peeped in, and then he brought his head back out into the hallway just as quickly. "Oh brother," he groaned quietly. 

"What is it?" asked Jenny. 

Junior put a finger to his lips. "My parents," he whispered. 

"So?" whispered Will. 

"They're _kissing_," clarified Junior. 

"Well I . . I guess we're a little early," whispered Jenny. She glanced at her watch. "Class doesn't start for fifteen minutes." 

During the ensuing silence, Junior and his friends could hear whispers from inside. 

"I love your soft hair, darling," they faintly heard Harry say. 

"Oh honey, it's not _that_ soft," they heard Cho reply with delight. Her weakness was her husband. 

"We're getting out of here," whispered Junior sternly to his friends. They looked at him with confused expressions. "At least _I _am going to take a walk around the halls." With that, he took off down the corridor. 

*** 

Junior walked briskly, not really wanting the others to follow. He never looked back, so he wasn't sure if they were following him. The faces in the paintings that lined the hallway followed him with their eyes. Some smiled at him and waved. A few annoying ones begged him for some conversation. 

"Sorry," Junior would mutter to them. "I have a class soon." After a few minutes of walking, a sight made Junior stop. A painting of a dark landscape hung from the wall. In the background of the painting, Junior saw words. They were laced throughout what would appear to the average person as a background of squiggly green lines. But Junior knew immediately what had grabbed his attention. The writing was in Parselmouth, and he was reading it clearly.   


**In the future, those with and without the Knowledge will be at odds. A Betrayer will be said to serve both sides, but truly serve another. The Betrayer will aid the arrival of the Lord of Night and Day. This Dark Wizard will cause the terrible War that the King fears. All this is foreseen, unless the Intersection of the Lines can solve the puzzle.**   


That made absolutely no sense. Junior tried to sort it all out, but his watch told him that he had to get to class. Perhaps his father could help him with it. No, that wasn't necessary. Junior would come back to the painting later to try to decipher the meaning. It's not like the painting was going anywhere. 

*** 

Junior retraced his steps until he saw his friends standing outside. Jenny was looking at him and giggling. 

"What is it?" asked Junior defensively. "They're not still . . " 

Junior saw the door swing open gently, and then his Dad stepped into the hallway. His hair was more toussled than usual. The smile on Harry Sr.'s face disappeared when he saw the kids outside. "Er, hi son," Harry Sr. said awkwardly. 

"Hi Dad," mumbled Junior. 

Harry looked at the others and then at his watch. "Well, I have a class to teach in a few minutes. Have fun, you kids. Don't get on your Mum's nerves, Harry." A grin broke out on his face just before he left. 

The other students in the class started to arrive. Will, Jenny, and Charles were all looking at him with smug expressions. "You wouldn't believe the cute names they have for each other," teased Will as soon as Harry was out of hearing range. Jenny and Charles were visibly fighting the urge to snicker. 

Junior didn't feel too flustered. He'd get back at them by not immediately telling them what he had seen a few minutes before. 

*** 

The transfiguration room was bright, orderly, and inviting. It suited Cho's personality perfectly. The curtains were up, and the sun shone through the windows. The desks were arranged in rows of six. A tall, green houseplant stood in a corner at the back of the room. Harry's orchids were in a white ceramic flower vase on Cho's desk. 

Cho's big brown eyes lit up as the students entered. She was really beaming at them. Junior and his friends decided to sit at the back; Junior told them he worried about his Mum embarrassing him. 

The clock struck 2. "Hi," Cho said. "How is everybody?" It appeared that she was still partly on cloud nine; Harry must have made her day. 

The students nodded and made shy comments about the day. 

She continued to beam at them. "My name is Cho Chang Potter, but you can call me Professor Potter or Professor Chang. Welcome to Transfiguration," she said cheerily. "My hope is that you Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs enjoy this class as much as I. Would you mind going through introductions for one more teacher?" she asked sweetly. 

Some students chuckled. Junior had already been through two such introductions today. This was his first class with the Hufflepuffs, but he still wasn't really in the mood. His eyes roamed the room. Several boys were indeed grinning foolishly at their professor. How pathetic could they be? 

Junior didn't pay too much attention to the introductions. It had been a long day, already. Cho seemed genuinely interested in learning everybody's name, and she was her usual witty self in the small conversations that ensued. The students laughed heartily, enjoying the laid-back atmosphere. Junior suspected that some of the louder laughing boys would erupt into laughter even if her jokes weren't funny. 

*** 

"Jason Sargone, ma'am," said Jason when it was his turn. "Future dragon keeper." 

"Fascinating job, that," said Cho. "All the dragon keepers I know love their jobs. Transfig might help you a bit in that field, don't you think?" She grinned at this shameless act of self-promotion. Junior didn't know that his Mum had dragon keeper friends. 

"Of course," said Jason with a broad smile. "Transfiguration is the difference between life or death when it comes to dragons." 

The whole class laughed. Jason was really a cool guy, thought Junior. 

*** 

Junior reflected during the next few minutes of introductions. Of course Cho knew dragon keepers. She had such a staggering amount of friends from so many different backgrounds that Junior didn't know how she kept up with them. Of course, her best friends were her husband, Hermione, Ginny, Ron, and Draco. The herbology professor, Carolyn Green, was also one of Cho's older, and more talkative, friends from Ravenclaw. 

*** 

Soon it was Jenny's turn. Jenny and Cho smiled at each other. There was definitely some kind of understanding between the two that much resembled Cho's connection to her daughters. 

"I'm Jenny Weasley, professor," Jenny said brightly. "I think I might want to teach Transfiguration someday." 

Cho smiled back. "That's wonderful," she said. "It's a great job." Junior knew when his Mum was genuine, and she definitely was right now. "Please keep my son out of trouble, OK?" 

"I'll try, Mrs. Pott-- I mean, Professor Potter," Jenny said. 

"Speaking of your son," began Junior. It was his turn to introduce himself. Cho smiled at him, which always seemed to relax him a bit. "I'm Harry Potter, Jr. And, er, I'm nothing but trouble." 

Cho and Junior's classmates laughed. "I think you're exaggerating a bit, dear," the professor joked. "Don't expect to get away with anything in _my _class," she added. Junior grinned back. She looked to Junior's left. "Will?" she said. 

"Yes," said Will. "I'm Will Malfoy," he addressed to the class. "I don't know what I want to do, but I am _not_ going to become an actor like my parents." 

There was more laughter. 

"No acting, then?" asked Cho. 

"Nope," said Will. 

"Well, you certainly have the looks," said Cho genuinely. Junior felt disgusted as Will's face turned red. Half the class turned to suddenly scrutinize Will more closely. The color in his face subsided as the last few students introduced themselves. 

"Okay, that's everybody," said Cho. "Let's talk about transfiguration, then. First of all, can somebody define transfiguration?" She looked around at the students. "Yes?" she said as she pointed to Jason. 

"Using magic to turn one thing into another," said Jason. 

"Exactly," said Cho. She glanced at the clock. "Does anybody know what an Animagus is?" 

Hands shot into the air, and Cho called on Will. 

"An Animagus is a wizard who can change into an animal," said Will confidently. 

"Right," said Cho. "Would you all like to see this kind of change take place?" 

The students nodded excitedly. Junior had already seen this before. 

Cho raised her wand hand and pointed the wand tip at the top of her head. She muttered something, and with a soft popping sound she was replaced by a white dove. The wand fell to the floor and all the students gasped. 

It made sense in so many ways for Cho to pick the dove. She loved to fly. The coldness, the thin air, and the view at the high altitudes thrilled her. That's why Quidditch appealed to her so much. Harry and Cho would still occasionally have broom races. The fact that the secret of magic had gotten out to the Muggles meant that wizards could travel by broom out in the open. 

In addition, Cho was an innocent and pure creature. Ron still joked with Harry about the years when Harry had been "going out with a nun." Cho had had "The Rule", as she had called it. It was old-fashioned courtship, which meant that she wouldn't even allow anyone to kiss her until her marriage. It had severely tried Harry's patience. 

According to the books, Harry had a particularly difficult time with the rule one day when Cho had saved his life. He had begged to thank her with a kiss, and she had desperately wanted to receive it. Somehow, she had held fast to her rule. In the end, Harry _had_ kissed her at that moment--on the forehead. 

Though he had been irritated, in the end it must have been worth it. Everyone knew that Harry and Cho were a very happily married couple. Cho must have felt priveleged to have that kind of commitment from the man she loved. 

With another small popping sound, Cho returned to her human form. "Doesn't that look like fun?" she said cheerily. "You're not allowed to know the incantation yet," she said sternly. "It's a ministry rule." 

"Does it hurt?" asked a Hufflepuff girl. 

"A little bit, Leena," said Cho gently. "But it happens so quickly that one barely notices." She looked at her watch. "That's as interesting as transfig gets," she joked. "Now, we're going to try a simple spell today. Could everybody please take out an extra quill and set it on your desks? Take out your wands as well, please. We'll attempt to turn our quills into rulers." 

*** 

The students found this quite difficult. Jenny was the first one to get the spell to work to a noticeable degree, but the ruler still had a feather tip at the end. 

"Almost," said Cho encouragingly. 

Jenny scowled at the ruler and closed her eyes. Cho was watching intently from a few feet away. Junior set his wand down to watch Jenny. She whispered the incantation to herself a few times, and then her eyes focused on the quill-ruler hybrid. Her hand pointed the wand at the _thing_, and she muttered, "Centrimicus." 

Jenny couldn't help but scream with delight as the _thing_ became a full ruler. She put her fists above her head then hugged the closest person next to her, who happened to be Junior. The wind was knocked out of him, and she let go almost as soon as she had put her arms around him. She then hugged Will. What did he and Will have to do with it? Junior felt a mix of other emotions, but he had to admit that he had never seen Jenny grin so broadly. 

*** 

A/N: Enjoying the ride? That's the most clever chapter title I've ever picked. (Recently learned free tip to writers: pick the title _after _you write the chapter). 

Jason Sargone is based on the title of the myth "Jason and the Argonauts." Mupas are my invention. Surprised to see actual plot details for a change? 

Your reviews can influence which characters I develop or neglect. Feel free to ship via review. Maybe you can convince me to change my plans :-) 

Herb names obtained from this fantasy game-related site: http://www.quantal.demon.co.uk/saga/ooc/herbs.html#herblist 

--Philip "Pottermaniac" Gonzales, May 4, 2001. 


	5. Paintings and Prophecies

Harry Jr. and the Ministry's Secret Chapter 05 Disclaimer: JKR's characters, places, and ideas do not belong to me.   


A/N: Thanks to all the reviewers! Harry Potter himself reviewed! Apologies for the delay. 

Several responses and comments follow, with others ansered in this chapter . . . 

1.) Cho does not need a wand to transfigure. (My mistake!) 

2.) I had neither the information nor the patience to accord the wands situation with the canon. (The Antarctic Dove belongs to me). 

3.) Making Cho a Christian is definitely an inference--though a feasible one. However, I will reduce the religious references in order to make this fic apply as universally as possible. 

4.) I haven't quite found the right personality for Cho. Quaffle's Cho already has the best personality, and my conscience won't let me steal her from said author. 

5.) I try to avoid too many parallels to the canon, but this avoidance puts more strain on my (limited) creativity. My trio will try to entertain you as best as they can. 

6.) Please pretend that Cho answered questions about transfig, and not about wizarding medicine, at the conference. I fell into the Mary Sue trap and am trying to correct my error. In keeping with the mythological spirit of the fic, I could also refer to this tendency as the Pygmalion-Galatea effect :-) 

7.) I hope the "subtle" H/C shipping hasn't scared anybody away. Not to start a debate or anything, but some people have just not seen the light . . . Wait! I was just kidding! Please come back! 

Without further ado . . .   


**Chapter 5: Paintings and Prophecies**

Junior and his friends planned to spend the night quietly. After dinner, they secured a spot in the common room and set their heavy backpacks down. Junior took out his history textbook to read up on Grindenwald. 

There was a loud sound that sounded like a small explosion. Junior turned his head to see colorful sparks bursting from the spot where the sound had likely originated. 

"Not one of _those _things," said Will with irritation. 

"Hey sorry Will," said Daniel apologetically. "We're just playing with that new toy from Triple W." 

"We know," said Jenny ruefully. "It was a real big hit at the last family get-together." 

"Yeah," added Will with amusement. "Uncle Fred and Uncle George debuted them for the whole family around New Year's. I've never seen Grandma Molly get so irate. A certain something caught on fire . . . " 

Junior chuckled. He hadn't been there, but he partly wished he had--if only to see Mrs. Molly Weasley screaming furiously at her twin sons. Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes had the funniest and most ridiculous distractions for young wizards. 

"Cool," said Marcus. Marcus and Scott had already spent enough time with Andy and Daniel to become trouble-makers. "So you get to see all the 3 Dub products in advance?" 

"Just around the holidays," said Will. "I've got a stash of them at home." 

"Oh," said Marcus. He looked back at his friends, who were grinning at him mischievously. "Have fun studying," he said, and the goof balls resumed their noisy game. After a minute, it was evident that they had probably already forgotten about their pledge to keep the noise down. 

"I was just thinking." That was Will's voice. Junior looked up. "I was just thinking," he continued, "about the Death Eaters. Nowhere in this book does it say how they got their name. Honestly. How does one _eat _death? I'd personally be more scared of somebody who ate actual food--you know, stuff with real nutritive value?" 

Junior couldn't help but laugh with Will and Jenny. These days, people could reflect on the events of the previous generation and could feel free to poke fun at them. 

They were all looking up from their books, so Junior decided to finally tell them. "So," he said casually, "do you want to hear about something interesting I saw this afternoon?" 

"What is it?" asked Will curiously. 

"You mean just before transfig?" asked Jenny. Her eyes had returned to the book, but she obviously hadn't resumed reading. 

"Yeah," said Junior. "I saw something written in Parselmouth." 

Will and Jenny now stared at him with shocked expressions on their faces. A few nearby heads turned towards him for a brief moment. 

This irritated Junior. "What's the big deal, anyway?" He didn't wait for a response. "It's another language--like Spanish or French. Anyway, the writing was some kind of prophecy." 

"Prophecy?" echoed Will. 

"About some Dark Lord of Night and Day, a king, a war, and the Intersection of the Lines saving the day by solving a puzzle." Junior hoped that they would be able to put together what he could not. 

"And has your father seen it?" asked Jenny. 

"Not yet," said Junior. 

"Maybe you read it wrong," said Will. "Or it's a joke or something . . . " 

"Nice try, Will," said Junior. "I know you don't want me adventuring, but don't worry. It's not for me; it's for that Intersection of the Lines guy." 

"Or _girl_," corrected Jenny. 

"Or girl," Junior conceded with exasperation. He chuckled. "Like _you _could be this intersection person." 

Jenny glared at him. "What's _that _supposed to mean?" 

"Oh Jen," said Will with fatigue. "Don't be so defensive. He's just trying to bother you, right Junior?" 

"Yeah," said Junior with resignation. Jenny gave him a disapproving look. "Why'd you have to spoil the fun so early? Sometimes you're such a killjoy." Will just gave him a knowing look, which made Junior slightly uncomfortable. What was there to _know_? 

"Hi all," said a familiar voice behind Junior. 

"Hey Charles," said Will and Jenny. 

Junior turned around to see their friend with a heavy book bag on his back. He looked exhausted. "Hi Charles," said Junior. 

Charles nodded at him. "So how's the studying?" 

"Um, we haven't gotten much done yet," said Will. "Here, sit down. Drop that bag of yours, too." 

"Suppose I should," said Charles, and he settled down next to Junior and across from Will and Jenny. 

"You've been in the library all this time?" asked Jenny. 

"Yes I have," said Charles with a tired voice. "But it hasn't been _all _work," he added quickly. I finished researching my roots, too. You know, looking for a trace of wizard blood." 

"And?" asked Junior curiously. 

"My great-great-great-great-great-grandmother attended this very school long ago," Charles said proudly. 

"Wow, that's great," said Will. 

"Fantastic!" said Junior. 

"Astounding," chimed in Jenny. 

"My Mum tried to trace her roots," said Junior, not really wanting to change the subject, "but she quit eventually." 

"That's it!" exclaimed Jenny. Junior looked at her with a confused expression, and so did Will. "You're the one, Junior!" she said excitedly. 

"I'm the what?" asked Junior. 

"You're the Intersection of the Lines!" exclaimed Jenny. 

Will just gaped at her. "What were we talking about, again?" asked Junior. 

"You're the dual heir," said Jenny, who was obviously trying to be patient, "the intersection of the _bloodlines _of both Gryffindor and Ravenclaw!" 

Charles looked around at them. "I think I've missed something." 

Jenny excitedly filled Charles in. 

"Ah! That sounds right!" he exclaimed, and then his voice contained some amusement. "Aren't you glad I mentioned genealogy?" 

"Wait a minute," said Will in a serious tone. "Let's not leap to conclusions. It could be the intersection of _any _two lines. What's so special about Gryffindor and Ravenclaw? How sure are we that your Mum was the heir of Ravenclaw? And . . . what if the prophecy's already _been _fulfilled . . . or if it's not _supposed_ to be fulfilled for centuries? And also, how do you know that the "lines" are bloodlines? They could be any kind of line." Will covered just about every possibility. 

"All true," conceded Junior. "But none of those scenarios make me feel important." He smiled mischievously, and Will gave him a frustrated expression. "Mum always wondered if she was the heir of Ravenclaw, but she ran into a dead-end tracing her roots. Her ancestors' history is really complicated." 

"We're going to a professor," said Will. "Your Dad! He'd know what to do." 

"Oh honestly Will," said Jen. "Junior's Dad's likely not the dual heir. And besides, it's nothing dangerous like his Dad had to go through. It's just some puzzle." 

"You never know," retorted Will. "I personally don't want my friend to die at 11 years of age. But if you want to risk it, well, then that's your opinion." 

"You have to be so dramatic, don't you Will?" said Jenny angrily. "I said it's _just_ a puzzle!" 

"And Junior's Dad didn't _look _for trouble," Will continued as if he didn't hear a word of what she had said. "This whole 'being a hero is fun' attitude is kind of disturbing." 

"Junior's not looking for trouble either!" exclaimed Jenny. "If he alone can prevent some terrible war--" 

"Okay, okay!" exclaimed Junior in an effort to keep the peace. "I'll talk to Dad, and then maybe to Mum, and then we'll go check the painting." 

"Painting?" asked Charles. 

"Er, yeah, it's of a dark landscape," clarified Junior. "Dark blue, cloudy sky. Tall grassy hills. A stream at the bottom. And some dark trees in the distance. The painting's just a short walk past the transfig classroom." 

*** 

At breakfast the next morning--a Wednesday morning--Junior looked to fulfill his promise. His first class was Care of Magical Creatures at 8, but he convinced his friends to go early with him to the Great Hall. 

It was a quarter past seven, and the hall was definitely quieter and had much fewer students. Junior spotted his parents immediately. They were laughing with some other members of the faculty, including Carolyn Green. 

Ms. Green was a talkative lady, and a long-time friend of his mother from Hogwarts. She visited occasionally, and she was well read and had a good sense of humor. She had blonde, curly hair and was tall and skinny. As usual, she was wearing her glasses. 

Two letters fell on Junior's head, and, without stopping to acknowledge the owl, he bent down to pick the envelopes off the floor. He decided to look at them later and then continued to head for the staff table. His parents and Ms. Green greeted Junior as he approached them. They were talking excitedly, and other staff members were shaking his Mum's hand cheerfully. 

"So have you heard the news about your mother yet?" asked Ms. Green anxiously. They all smiled at him. "She found out a little bit ago. I'm so happy for her!" 

"What? Not again!" blurted out Junior. How . . . how could they do this to him? He didn't need more responsibilities right now. School would already be difficult enough to handle . . . 

His parents and Ms. Green gave him confused looks. 

"Again, Junior?" echoed his mother curiously. "I'm sorry, but I don't quite understand . . . " 

"Cho," his father blurted out suddenly. She looked at him, but he decided not to finish his sentence. The trace of a smile could be seen on his face. 

Junior just stared at them. "Mum? Are you pregnant again?" he asked incredulously. 

Suddenly, his parents and Ms. Green looked like they were going to laugh at Junior, but they all caught themselves. Junior must have looked mortified for the last few seconds. 

His Mum bit her lip, and then she spoke. "Um, Junior . . . I don't _think_ . . . well, it's just a misunderstanding." The last part was added awkwardly, and then his mother looked at Ms. Green with a slightly angry expression that elicited an apologetic look from his mother's friend. "Though I understand how you could be confused," his mother added quickly. A grin broke out on her face, and then she added excitedly, "Actually, it turns out that Goldman Press will publish my book. I received the letter this morning." She grinned at him. "Didn't think it would happen, did you?" she teased. 

Junior felt relieved, but also embarrassed. His father and Ms. Green had a much harder time restraining their laughter. His father turned his attention to his food, but there was a smile on his face. Ms. Green had a hand over her mouth, and she was keeping her eyes fixed on his Mum and away from him. 

"Of . . . of course I did, Mum," said Junior. The first chapter of the book had left a big impression on him. Unfortunately, he hadn't had the chance to read any farther. "That's . . . that's great." She beamed at him. Well, she had reason to be proud. Having to take care of the kids at home and wanting to do some extracurricular work led to his mother's writing at home. Computers still confused her, and so she still wrote everything out first in flowing script with quill, ink, and parchment. 

Calm and rationality returned to Junior. He might as well say what he had wanted to. "Well, I stopped by because . . . Dad, I saw this painting past Mum's classroom a little ways. Have you seen it? A dark landscape?" 

"No, son," said his father slowly. 

"I've seen it," said his mother. "It has a lot of squiggly lines in the grass, right?" 

"Yes, that's it," said Junior. "Well, those squiggly lines that you saw, I saw them as writing." 

His father stared at him. "It sounds like Parselmouth," he said seriously. 

"Right," said Junior. "So here's what it said: There will be a terrible war and the rising of a Dark Lord unless the Intersection of the Lines solves the puzzle." 

His parents looked at each other in shock. 

"Junior," said his mother softly, "it sounds like this Intersection is you. I never determined conclusively if I'm a descendant of Ravenclaw, but the evidence suggests it's a strong possibility." She looked around the table. "Felix," she said towards Professor Concolor. 

Concolor, who was a few seats away from Junior's father, turned around to look at her. "Yes, Cho?" 

"Have you heard of any dual heirs among the descendants of Hogwarts' Founders?" 

"Hmm. . . no," he said confidently. "It's possible, but the lines all went their separate ways after the Founders parted, and so the probability is very small." 

This is exactly what Junior wanted to hear. His mother thanked Concolor, and then the man returned to his conversation with Snape and Cronus. 

His father's brow furrowed, and then he spoke. "I want to take a look at this painting. Where is it, exactly?" 

"Er," said Junior. "Well, I'd have to show you. It's really hard to explain." He looked at his watch. "Sorry, have to go eat breakfast before class. Nice talking to you, Ms. Green!" With that chipper comment, he left quickly. Why he decided to lie and not just tell his Dad the directions was beyond him. 

*** 

Junior began to return to the Gryffindor table, carrying the letters in his hand. He picked one randomly. It was sent by . . . Mr. and Mrs. Harry Potter? It took him a while to realize that his siblings back home must have sent it. Excitedly, he rushed the last short distance to the table. 

"What took you so long?" asked Will, though there wasn't much edge to his voice. 

"Er, well, Ms. Green confused about me about, er, something. Anyway, after I told her what the painting said, my Mum told me that the Intersection was probably me!" 

"And that's what I said!" exclaimed Jenny gleefully. 

"Yes, it seems you were quite right," agreed Charles. 

"But . . ." said Will. "But how does she know that the prophecy is a _current _one?" 

"I . . . don't know," said Junior, "but Concolor said that he can't remember any dual heirs in history." 

"Do you think they know something we don't?" asked Jenny. A silence followed. 

Junior looked around the Great Hall. People started to fill up the hall, and soon it would be time to leave for class. 

"I don't believe much in prophecies anyway," said Will finally. 

"It depends on the prophet," contributed Charles. "Right?" 

"Categorically, I don't believe in prophecies," clarified Will. 

Jenny chuckled to herself. "That Ms. Green," she said to herself with amusement. 

"What about her?" asked Will. 

"Come on, Junior," she said innocently, "what did she confuse you about?" 

"Er . . . " began Junior. "I thought she was saying my Mum was pregnant, but actually she was saying that my Mum's first book would be published." He saw their bewildered expressions. "You had to be there to understand," he added. 

"Well, that's a relief," said Will. He tore off a piece of muffin and stuffed it in his mouth. 

"The first part or the second?" asked Junior, opening his family's letter as he did so. 

"Both," said Jenny. She picked up her goblet and took a sip of orange juice. 

Junior looked back at his parents and Ms. Green, who were bantering like only they could do. As he ate some more of his breakfast, the words of his mother ran through his mind, and he suddenly realized that he knew more than he wanted to know. 

To get his mind off that, Junior took out the letter from his family: 

**Dear Junior,**

**Hi from all your sibs! We hope everything's going great! Here's a quick update.**

**Emily's taking charge around here. She ordered me, Bobby, to write this. She insisted on looking this over, too. She's been a bit bossy, but we love her.**

Junior saw an arrow from the end of this sentence to the margin, where a note said in different handwriting: 

**_(Ed. note--he's exaggerating--about the siblings loving her!)_**

Emily's comment made Junior smile to himself, and then he finished reading the letter: 

**Jes is playing the piano even more than usual. Something about a recital in a few weeks. Grace is being her usual fun self and is receiving a half dozen letters every day from friends. Tommy goes out with us guys and Grace when we play catch with Dad. Maggie and Joey are generally behaving well. Mum's hoping that her book will be published. She's started to read it to us instead of the old bedtime stories. And Dad, well, you can guess.**

**Write back. Tell us everything. How are Will and Jen? Are your classes good? Who are your roommates? Anyway, say hi to Will and Jenny and have fun!**

**Love,**   
**Bobby . . . and Emily, Jes, Gracie, Tommy, Maggie, and Joey**

**P.S. Kristina Malfoy and her parents--you-know, the actors!--came by to visit yesterday. Kristie said to tell you hi. You know how Kristie and Emily are almost the same. I don't know how they get along so well!**

Junior chuckled. Emily and Kristina both had dominant personalities. They were always considered themselves right; they always thought they had the answers. They had roughly equal smarts and very different looks. While Emily had jet black hair and hazel, almond shaped eyes, Kristie had a slightly upturned nose and long, wavy red hair. The oddest similarity was their view on boys. Neither one of them showed much interest in the opposite sex compared to their friends. Whenever Jenny added herself to the mix, you had a recipe for trouble. 

"Ooh, can I see that?" asked Jenny to break Junior's train of thought. 

"Oh sure," he said distractedly as he handed it to her, and then he looked at the other envelope. Surprisingly, it was from . . . 

"Pallas Moore," said Junior distractedly. 

"Tell your siblings about your wonderful new friend Charles," said Charles. 

The others grinned at him. 

"Read it aloud," said Will. 

**Junior, Will, and Jenny--**

**If you're reading this, then I've succeeded in getting through to you. Let me make this clear: I don't care for the petty inter-house feud that Spate wishes to perpetuate--like I even care for Slytherin and those ancient "traditionalists". I want to succeed for myself. If you want to make me out as some kind of villain, then you're ignoring the blatant facts. Honestly, I'd expect more from you. Congratulations Jenny on turning the quill into a ruler. Word spreads around quickly here, if you haven't already noticed.**

**--Pallas**

*** 

Junior and his friends made their way to their eight o'clock class: Care of Magical Creatures with the Ravenclaws. 

Rufus Cronus glared at them and the other students as all the students gathered around the cabin. His thick beard and curly mustache were white as snow. Some students cringed noticeably as they approached him and stood outside in a circle. 

Junior stole a look at Julie and suddenly planned to coax his friends into standing close to where she was. However, they had already walked to the other side of the circle. 

"Good morning," said Professor Cronus. "Now, today we'll be working with Wunkerskunks today. See them penned over there?" 

Junior saw some large rodent-like creatures with white and black striped furry coats. They paced around nervously and communicated to each other in high-pitched tones. 

"They look like and smell like big skunks," continued Cronus. "And they will release their stink if you taunt or poke them. For everybody else's sake, _use your head_. If anyone shows any signs of provoking them, they'll automatically lose 10 points. Do it again, and it's detention. Now follow me to the back and we'll take a look at them." 

Cronus didn't seem amused at all the entire class, but the students laughed as they fed the Wunkerskunks. The students would put little nuts and berries in a small basket at the end of a stick, and then they would give the food to the chained creatures. The point of the sticks was to keep one's distance away from them. 

"He must have got the job because of the ability to handle them, but it looks like he hates this job," said Will quietly. They were out of Cronus' hearing range at the moment. 

"He's definitely not the warm and cuddly type," said Jenny. "Like these adorable things," she said lovingly, referring to the creatures. 

Junior rolled his eyes. "So what do you think about Pallas?" he asked. 

"He's rather rude, though of course we _may_ have a slight tendency to misjudge him," conceded Will. 

"Remember that he has plenty of problems," said Jenny. 

"Bet he has to look out for his Mum," contributed Junior. 

"Bet he doesn't," said Will. 

Junior snuck in another look at Julie. It looked like Melissa was suspecting his crush, but he assumed that she wouldn't tell anybody. "Julie's hair gloriously cascades down her back like water in a waterfall--and like, er, other things that cascade." His eyes stayed fixed on her. 

"Uh, Junior," said Will, jolting Junior, "do you realize you just said that out loud?" 

"Oh," said Junior with realization, and he quickly turned his head away. His face flushed, and he quickly returned to feeding his Wunkerskunk. 

*** 

The ten o'clock was Charms with the Hufflepuffs. Junior convinced his friends to sit over next to Jason, and Jason looked pleasantly surprised when they sat close to him. 

Marcus, Scott, Jolina, and Linda sat around the same area. Jolina, Linda, and a tiny girl named Malita Stone were Jenny's roommates. 

The professor had had his back to them the whole time, and all they could see was his diminutive stature and balding head. He turned around suddenly, and they witnessed him in full glory. The little white hair that Professor Thomas Baggle had did not look combed at all. He wore thick black spectacles and the buttons of his robes were mismatched such that one half of his collar was higher than the other. Moreover, he didn't seem to be wearing any socks . . . 

"Good morning children," he said in a chipper tone. "I'm . . . uh . . . Professor Baggle . . . let me just write that on the board, then." He glanced back at the shelf on the blackboard. " . . . well that's funny . . . if I could only find my piece of chalk . . . " 

Junior heard everyone around him suppress laughter, and then Junior realized why. There was a large piece of chalk in Baggle's right hand. 

"Um . . . professor," said Jenny. 

Baggle turned around. "Yes?" 

"Um, the chalk's . . . in your hand?" said Jenny tentatively. 

Baggle looked at his left hand, and then saw it in his right. "Ah! So it is!" he exclaimed. "Right then." He turned around and started writing. "B-A-G-G-L-E. There." Using supreme self-control, Junior fought the urge to burst into laughter. "Now," he said. "I''m not very good with names." 

"That's a surprise," muttered Will, and Junior and Jenny were going red from stopping themselves from laughing. 

"So, if you'll just . . . please try to help me . . . uh . . . learn them, then that would be greatly appreciated. What was your name, my young helper?" He looked at Jenny. 

"Jenny Weasley," she said. 

"Wonderful," said Baggle, and then he turned around and began writing. 

Junior noticed that Baggle was writing incredibly fast and illegibly and babbling nonsensically. Suddenly, a wad of paper flew out towards Baggle. He was oblivious to it, and kept writing. Junior turned around to see Marcus and Scott crumpling up pieces of paper and laughing quietly. This would be a long class, thought Junior. 

Baggle eventually stopped writing, and then looked at them. "Any questions?" 

No one made a sound. Charles looked like he was actually trying to make sense of what was on the board. 

"Janey? Any questions?" said Baggle as he looked at Jenny. 

"It's Jenny," she said with what sounded like mixed irritation and sympathy. 

"Right, sorry," said Baggle. "No questions? All right then, take out your wands and we'll perform some charms." 

Any lack of respect for Baggle disappeared the moment they saw Baggle casting charms. Today they were doing simple summoning charms. Baggle was physically exhausted after ten minutes or so on his feet, and apparently without thinking, he summoned a chair to himself. It flew from a corner of the room behind him, and it moved so fast that it almost looked like it apparated onto the spot. Jaws dropped, but Baggle just kept monitoring them. 

*** 

Suddenly, Jenny successfully performed the task for the day: summoning a knut from the end of one's desk to one's wand. 

"Very good Ginny!" exclaimed Baggle excitedly. 

Everyone looked at a red-faced Jenny; it looked like she wanted to go hide somewhere. 

*** 

After class, Junior and his friends quickly rose from their seats. 

"Junior," said the voice of Jason behind him. 

Junior turned around. "Yeah?" 

"Junior, word spreads like wildfire around here. Even in this class. I just heard people whispering about you having a certain . . . ability," said Jason. 

Will and Jenny gave Junior a concerned expression. Charles looked momentarily confused. 

"How . . . well it's really nothing," said Junior. "It's _just another language_." 

"I think so too," said Jason, "but not everybody else does. To a lot of people, it draws up comparisons between you and Voldemort--and Slytherin and the Dark Arts in general." 

Junior sighed. "But my father changed all that . . . " 

"I agree with that, too," conceded Jason, "but still . . . the fear remains." 

"Point well taken, Jason," said Will respectfully. 

"Yes, thanks for the warning," said Junior, and he shook hands with Jason. 

"Don't want to leave class, do we?" came a familiar and amused voice. 

Junior and his friends turned around to see Baggle smiling at them. 

"Er, Professor Baggle," began Junior. 

"Yes?" asked Baggle curiously. 

Junior glanced at Jenny on his left and pointed to her. "Her name's _Jenny_." 

"Jenny?" echoed Baggle. "Oh, I see. Jenny. Right. Sorry. I won't forget!" 

Jenny mouthed _thank you _to Junior. 

Junior smiled back. 

*** 

Two o'clock Herbology with the Slytherins turned out to be much more tame. 

Junior and his friends enjoyed the leisurely stroll on the Hogwarts grounds. They could see the glass green house from a distance and found it quite a sight. One could see long trees shoot up to the very apex of the pointed ceiling. Some plants appeared to be moving furiously. Junior saw red, blue, and even a white plant with black stripes--like a zebra. 

Professor Green stood in the center of the class, and she was laughing and chatting with Junior's Mum. Professor Green wore white, while Junior's Mum wore yellow. Ms. Green was seeing a certain Neville Longbottom--another herbology expert by trade. Mr. Longbottom was performing research in Malaysia. 

Junior took in the strange odors and craned his neck following the helical trunk of a tall tree. 

"Hello, class," said Professor Green. "Herbology deals with magical plants. This is a lot like care of magical creatures, because it's a practical--instead of a purely intellectual--art. Now just pay attention to my instructions, heed my warnings, and try to have fun over the term." 

She proceeded to show them a mandrake, and the students were assigned to transfer them from one pot to the other for the duration of class. Over time, Junior and his friends showed fewer signs of frustration and actually appeared to be enjoying themselves. 

*** 

The students were walking back to the castle in high spirits. Junior went over the directions to the painting in his head. 

"Afternoon." That was a familiar voice. 

Junior turned around and heard his friends gasp. 

"Pallas?" said Jenny uncertainly. 

"Hello _Ginny_," said Pallas, though he sounded more amused than hurtful. 

"So what is it?" asked Will, who sounded torn between patience and anger. 

"A tune's been playing on the airwaves around here. People say that you speak Parselmouth, Junior," said Pallas. 

"So?" challenged Junior. 

"I was just curious. I mean, how can a bunch of scribbles look like writing to you, and _only_ you? Can't other people learn it as well?" 

"Pallas, it's _magic_," said Will simply. "Not everything is easily explainable--or even _rational_." 

"Yes, well," said Pallas with disappointment. "It would just be interesting to learn from somebody, that's all." 

"Yes," Charles managed quietly. "That would be interesting." 

*** 

Junior couldn't wait to get to the painting again. He and his friends dropped their books off in their rooms, and then set out towards the transfiguration classroom. 

As they passed the classroom and headed down the hall, they saw a familiar figure in the hall. 

"Hello," said Professor Harry Potter. He was standing in front of the painting. His face showed curiosity and excitement. 

"Hi, Dad," said Junior weakly and with disappointment. 

"Your translation is perfect," said his father. "But have you noticed something else in the painting itself?" 

"No . . . " said Junior slowly. He and his friends crowded around and looked. 

It looked darker than Junior remembered. The weak moon tried futilely to illuminate the grassy hills. The grass was actually a bit soggy, as if it had recently rained. What was his father getting at? The hills, the shape of the landscape, didn't resemble anything. The stream, would it have a snake-like shape? No, it did not. 

"I see," said Charles. "In the background, a lone tree, with a white snake curled around it." 

"Yes," said Junior's father. "That struck me. It makes no sense in the context of the picture." 

"Snake, Slytherin, Parselmouth," Will freely associated out loud. "Isn't that just the theme?" 

"But snakes aren't so ghostly white," said Jenny. "I could swear it's eyes . . . are red slits, but we can only see its head from the side." 

Junior felt a new kind of determination. He stared at the painting. 

"Well, I have a class at 3, so I'd best be going," said Junior's father. "I'd appreciate it if you waited for me before doing anything rash--like solving a puzzle." 

Junior nodded, and his father left. However, solving a puzzle was exactly what Junior wanted to do. 

"I am the Intersection of the Lines," said Harry out loud, trying to convince himself. "My Dad's the heir of Gryffindor, and my Mum _has _to be the Heir of Ravenclaw. "That's the only way it makes sense. I'm supposed to solve the puzzle." 

"Nothing _conclusively _indicates that you're Ravenclaw's heir," said Jenny reasonably. "You'd have to demonstrate an ability like 'Ravenspeak'--which doesn't exist, mind you--or be able to use some kind of 'Ravenclaw-heirs only' magical object--like your Dad did with that sword." 

"And Pig flies," muttered Will. "I mean, pigs fly." 

"Haha," said Junior. "You're just trying to discourage me." 

"You bet I am!" exclaimed Will. "This is _not _your problem, and I'm saying that to you in a civil tone--and as a friend." 

"My Mum was a top student," said Junior. 

"But not _the _smartest in the school. Aunt Hermione was the smartest, and so she's actually _more_ likely to be the Heir of Ravenclaw!" 

"Still," said Junior, surprising himself with his patience, "my Mum _is_ gifted." There was no argument from Will. "I think it's reasonable to believe that I'm the dual heir," he said with finality. 

He looked at them for agreement, but their facial expressions looked torn. "Anyway," he continued, "the King I've determined is Mr. Weasley. He's the Minister of Magic, and the Ministry doesn't want the war." 

"Sounds fair," said Jenny. 

"And so, who's the Lord of Night and Day?" asked Junior. 

"Beats me," said Will carelessly. "How about . . . Pallas Moore?" 

"A cute little 11 year old _kid_?" scoffed Jenny. 

"Maybe he'll _become _the next Dark Lord," snapped Will. "You see my point? I'd agree that he deserves fair treatment--and maybe even some pity--from us at this time, but he said so himself--'I want to succeed for my own benefit'. He even thinks he's _above _the house of Slytherin." 

For some reason, Junior didn't like Jenny referring to Pallas as "cute", but it was probably just an expression often used in reference to kids. He and the others nodded. He turned his head back to the painting, and he immediately gasped. 

"What is it, Junior?" asked Pallas. 

The text was in the same place and still written in Parselmouth, but it had _changed_. Only a few words were written now, and he instinctively read them aloud: 

**If this King lost its Pride, then it could start a new one.**

Junior's mind tried to put it together. Why would the message change into some kind of riddle? It sounded simple enough. 

After a second, they all simultaneously said that they had it. 

Including Junior. "A lion?" he said to the painting. He heard voices of agreement behind him. 

The painting didn't react. But he was so _sure._ A thought entered his mind. It just may work, but he hadn't _done _it before. His eyes fixed themselves on the landscape of the painting, looking for just _one _of them. At last, he found one curled around the trunk of a small tree. He could see the side of its head, and it had a ghostly white pallor. Since when did _snakes _curl around trees? All right, _concentrate_. 

He looked at the long, white snake. Suddenly, its head turned, and now he could see its eyes. Horrible, red slits stared back at him. The forked tongue darted out and quickly retracted. 

Junior felt an intense coldness surround him, but he maintained his concentration. _Come on, Junior, _he thought to himself, _do you want to be a hero or not? _With the image of the snake fixed in his mind, he looked back at the text of the painting. 

"A lion," he hissed in the Language of the Snakes. Immediately, the painting swung open to reveal a dark passageway. The others gasped. Without hesitation, Junior entered into the portrait hole. He soon heard the others climbing in behind him. And then the painting slammed shut, and there was darkness. 

Junior took out his wand. "Lumos," he muttered. The passageway smelled of dust, and he could feel the dust cushioning his footsteps. The stone staircase on which he was standing led down farther than his wand's light could reach. He took a deep breath, and then resumed his descent. 

After an eternity of walking, he saw light emanating from a room at the base of the stairs. His pace and breathing sped up, and he gasped when he finally got a glimpse of the room. 

The room was circular, with gold snakes in an elaborate design around the green, covered walls. There were elaborate silk rugs on the hardwood floor. No one occupied the room, but rather the light was originating from a bright , rectangular casing in the center of the room. 

"Look at that!" said Jenny in awe. 

It had the dimensions of a grand mirror. The casing was silver, with little pale snakes lacing all around. On the front were two plain silver doors. A circular gold piece held the two doors together. The front of the golden piece had an imprint that looked fitted for a right hand. 

The hand that had molded the imprint was that of an adult with long, tapered fingers. 

Junior gulped. "Do you think I'm supposed to . . . " 

They nodded gravely. 

Junior placed his right hand in the groove. Immediately, a stinging pain in his right forefinger made him take his hand back in pain. The golden lock fell to the floor as if it had been held onto the casing by a magnetic force. 

His fingertip was bleeding now; he wondered if it could be infected. But he had more important things to do. 

He heard a simultaneous gasp from the others. 

"It's . . . it's a mirror," said Will. 

A glance at the newly revealed, shining mirror face revealed nothing. He wasn't discouraged. His eyes went to the inscription at the top. 

ELBAKA ELP SNU EHT WOSHI 

Junior knew immediately from his father's story to read the inscription backwards. "_I show the unspeakable." _He gulped. "The unspeakable?" he questioned out loud. 

"Yes," bellowed a voice in front of him, and they all fell back in fear. The voice had come from the mirror. "You, the Intersection of the Lines, may ask to see an unspeakable act. You will witness the last hour of the victim's life--through his or her eyes. I will serve you only once." 

"And why such strict conditions?" challenged Will. "Why one hour? Why an unspeakable act?" 

"Because," bellowed the mirror, "that is all that is required." 

Junior thought about it and sighed. A one-time use mirror? "What's the point of this?" he asked sadly of his friends. "Why would I waste the only use of this magical item when there's nothing particularly unspeakable I'd like to see?" 

The others nodded at him in agreement. 

"Maybe when I'm older," said Junior, whose disappointment had led him to sarcasm. "I can't even watch certain movies yet." 

"Very well," bellowed the mirror. The doors closed, and the golden lock flew into place in the crack between the doors. 

Junior and his friends left wordlessly. 

*** 

Junior felt particularly irritable in the common room that night. "Some prophecy," he muttered. 

"Oh lighten up," said Jenny. "You might have a use for it later." 

"Right," said Will sarcastically. "You could use it to see what it looks like to fall down a cliff." 

"It just seems so pointless," said Junior. "It's insane, really, to want to watch something like that. Now I feel _so lucky _being the dual heir." 

Junior wrote a letter back to his siblings before he went to sleep. 

*** 

A/N: Summer vacation began today. I've already written part of chapter 6. Therefore, expect less humor and more action in the immediate future!   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	6. Fire and Matches

Harry Jr_ and the Ministry's Secret Chapter 06 Disclaimer: I don't own any of J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter characters, locations, or ideas. 

A/N: The action to which I referred at the end of the last A/N actually takes place in chapter 7. This chapter does have action, but not the action you may have expected. I have written part of chapter 7, so expect it in the near future. The flashback herein popped into my head and compelled me to write it. This scene would not work well as a stand-alone fic. In addition, it seems to fit well right here.   


**Chapter 6: Fire and Matches**   


The next day, Junior woke up around 5 o'clock in the morning to his alarm. He had yet to finish his Dark wizards comparison paper for Concolor. Somehow, the paper had immersed him and had never looked quite complete. 

Without waking anybody else up, Junior took his bag and headed out of his room and into the common room. 

The common room was quiet and quite dark. Junior took a seat in a plush armchair next to the fireplace and its roaring fire. 

The first book that he took from his bag was the one that had troubled him the most. In this last volume of The Sirius Black Chronicles, he had found a particularly striking passage--Sirius' account of his battle with Wormtail in Junior's father's seventh year: 

**I had a feeling, standing in this deserted hallway, that if Wormtail was in this castle somewhere, then he would be behind this door. It must be from some vestige of the bond that we all used to have from our Hogwarts days. I cursed myself for still having that. Had I held onto it, or had it refused to leave me? I pushed the door open, while holding my wand up in my left hand.**

**I saw Wormtail from a distance. He was in the middle of the room and was, to my surprise, simply watching the ensuing battle from the window. Now, finally, was the time to take revenge for all of us. He did not see me as I approached him from behind.**

**I quickly took in the room. There was a large statue of Voldemort in the center of the room--not far from me.**

**"Wormtail," I said as I pointed the wand at his back from roughly ten meters. "I told you that I would kill you for what you've done."**

**Wormtail didn't flinch. He didn't even move, but he did respond. "Ah, Padfoot. That's the difference between us," he said humorlessly. "You stop at threats, but I am the only one who can bring himself to kill. "**

**Wormtail turned around suddenly, his metal hand flashing. "Avada Kedavra," he said calmly, and I dove behind the statue. The right arm was completely broken off. How had he turned the tables around so soon? I had him at wand point but had not responded to his sudden attack. A simple binding hex may have sufficed.**

**"Ha!" spat Wormtail somewhere behind the statue. "_You_ are the weak one. You are the fool, the one who hesitates. The doubter. I am the one who has the power. Voldemort and I will conquer you, and Harry Potter, and all the others. Tonight. Here, in the glorious stronghold of Lord Voldemort himself. From the blood of you 'heroes', the reign of Voldemort will begin."**

**Wormtail was indeed the more powerful one. That metal hand of his had killed so many in such a short time. Perhaps Voldemort would win. I listened for noises of the battle raging outside, but I heard nothing. Ironic, how at the moment when Voldemort's life was in greatest danger, his loyal servant was not by his side.**

**"I'm not stupid enough to go after you," said Wormtail. "You see, you have to come out sometime." He laughed coldly. "Can't wait to get your revenge now, can you? Sirius Black, the crush of a hundred girls back at Hogwarts, now hiding like a cornered dog behind the statue of the Dark Lord himself!"**

**"Looks like I'm starting to resemble you then. Seeing how all you've done these last several years is hide behind Voldemort," I said through gritted teeth.**

**"Padfoot, Padfoot, Padfoot," said Wormtail. "The statue is merely stone. I could kill you whenever I wanted, but you can't blame me for wanting to enjoy this moment. Think of the irony. You're the one at my mercy. _I_ am the one with the power, and the glory, and soon _I_ will be at the right hand of the sovereign of the wizarding world."**

**He was obviously enjoying this. I was out of options. He was right. Maybe in my heart, I could never kill. But wasn't this necessary? Like he said, they were threatening to subvert the wizarding world to their will. So much world suffering would be prevented if I just killed him!**

**"Your friends are no match for him, you know," mused Wormtail. "They will all die. Voldemort's immortality is immanent. And so is mine."**

**What was he talking about? Voldemort only needed to kill Harry and his immortality would be secured. How was Wormtail going to obtain it?**

**"In fact," continued Wormtail. "I will someday surpass him. _He_ will bow down to _me_. For I know how to steal his immortality, and he will never be able to reclaim it from me. There's a secret that I know that Voldemort does not, and I intend to keep it that way."**

**This was petrifying. With immortality, Wormtail could be even more of a tyrant than Voldemort! Who knew?**

**"No!" screamed Wormtail. "It can't be! "**

**Curiosity took over me, and I peered out from behind the statue. I will never forget what I saw.**

**Wormtail's metal hand was pointing itself toward Wormtail, and Wormtail was trying to resist the unseen force in vain.**

**"_You_," hissed the high-pitched voice of Voldemort. Fear filled my heart. It sounded like the voice was coming from the hand itself. "You would seek to betray me."**

**"N- . . . no, my lord!" said Wormtail with fear in his voice. "I was m- . . . merely fooling the enemy . . . "**

**"You lie!" shouted the voice of Voldemort, and Wormtail was silent. Wormtail continued to resist, and he appeared to be fighting intense pain and the desire to sob.**

**"NO!" screamed Wormtail, but I knew that it was too late.**

**"You would betray me," the cold voice of Voldemort replied. "Just as you betrayed the others before. I made you what you are, and you show me no gratitude. I have no use for you. Harry Potter and the others will die tonight without your aid."**

**"NO! Master!" screamed Wormtail. Then something happened that made my stomach lurch.**

**A metal finger pointed itself towards Wormtail's face, and then Voldemort's voice muttered something, "Incendius Fatalus."**

**Wormtail burst into flames and began to scream uncontrollably in anguish. Without thinking, I moved from behind the statue and moved to a spot a few meters from him, the intense heat exceeding that of anything I had ever witnessed. Tears started to streak across my cheeks, but I tried to maintain a grim expression.**

**Wormtail continued to scream in agony, and his arms tried to protect his face from the flames.**

**In a minute, it was over, and Wormtail fell backward onto the hard stone floor. He was charred black from head to toe, as were his clothes.**

**He lay on the floor, and I walked toward him. My wand was still up, but I did not expect to need it. I looked at his face, and it was completely charred and full of pain.**

**"No need to finish me, Sirius," said Wormtail. "It is finished."**

**"No, no," I said. "You're . . . you're not finished." Pity came over me, though I tried to resist it.**

**Wormtail chuckled, and I almost thought that a smile formed on his face. It was difficult to tell, I noticed grimly. "You've always looked out for me, Sirius. Pitied me and believed in me, though you never pitied or believed in yourself. Funny, isn't it?"**

**Nothing was funny right now. "Peter," I said, despite myself. "Why did it have to be this way?"**

**Wormtail chuckled again, and then coughed. "You see," he began. "I wanted to _be_ somebody. To be important. And being Voldemort's servant made me feel important. But . . . as you can see . . . I was always nothing to him . . . and I was only ever 'somebody' to you . . . and Remus . . . and . . . James! Oh, James and Lily!" It sounded like he was trying to speak through his tears, but I knew he needed to say this. "I betrayed you all! I want to tell you both . . . that . . . I'm sorry . . . but I can't."**

**Then I _saw_ Peter. I truly saw him. The shy, small boy who had admired James and Sirius and me. The one who reluctantly let us drag him into our mischief on far too many occasions. The one who simply wanted to belong--to fit in.**

**"You will, Peter," I said encouragingly. "You'll see them again, and it'll be . . . just like old times. Someday . . . "**

**"No," said Peter. "You see . . . I will not see you again when we all have died. I don't deserve it. But give them my regards."**

**Horrified, I realized that those were probably his last words. My feet carried me, uncertainly, closer to his dying body. My hatred for Voldemort finally consumed me. "Voldemort will pay," I said to myself.**

**"Perhaps," said Peter, jolting me.**

**"You're . . . alive?" I said with a trace of hope.**

**"Sirius," Peter said. "Even if Voldemort succeeds . . . there will surely be another . . . perhaps even worse . . . and then won't all this . . . _all of this_ . . . be in vain?"**

**With that, Peter expired.**

**The tears came, and I let them. After an eternity that could not have exceeded five minutes, I pulled myself together and left to aid Harry and the others.**

******* Junior felt a chill through his spine whenever reading this passage, and he knew that the event had left an indelible mark on Sirius. 

He finished the paper, and went back to sleep. 

*** 

When he woke up for the second time that morning, Junior felt like a normal kid again. They stuffed their food down at breakfast and joked about the mirror's worthless secret. 

The owls dropped the mail, and Junior didn't receive anything. However, there was an interesting article in Jenny's Daily Prophet.

**Minister Clark Predicts Success for Second Wizard-Muggle Conference**

**Minister David Clark, a popular moderate who has been cautiously supportive of the conference to this point, has now given his full approval to the conference.**

**"I have full confidence now in Minister Weasley's ability to see an issue from both sides and work for the common good," said Clark. "I applaud his bold efforts and look forward to attending the conference next month."**

**This comes on the heels of another protest by Alicia Wilson and her protesters. While the protest was decidedly non-violent, the message appears to be stronger.**

**"The Muggles hate us, because they fear us," said a representative for Wilson. "This will never change. Their hatred will only grow. What will have to happen before we open our eyes to the threat?"**

**A popular supporter of the movement is Karen Moore. Moore's husband Richard Moore, a Durstrang professor and staunch Separatist, was killed by wizard-hating Muggles last month. The Moores are also suspected of donating to the Wilson's cause out of their vast monetary resources.**

**The second conference is scheduled for September 15 in London.**

*** 

Classes went well. Spate didn't distribute any points; all the students had terrible problems with their potions. The ingredients ordered from Wizmix Potions Ingredients Company must not have been fresh upon arrival, Spate had said, and he was very irate. 

Concolor looked over the papers. Junior proudly turned his in. They discussed Grindenwald in great detail, and everybody in the class knew the discussed material thoroughly. 

Junior's father showed them how to perform a defensive spell: Luminarus. This spell, invented by Harry Sr. himself, caused a burst of intensely bright light that temporarily blinded the enemy. By the end of class, everybody had learned it, and they all had seen stars at one point or another. 

Junior's mother introduced the students to the concept of Minimizing Transfiguration, in which one transforms one object into one of significantly smaller size. Jenny was the first person to successfully transform a galleon into a knut, though her reaction that day was decidedly more reserved. 

At 8 o'clock, Gryffindor held Quidditch tryouts. Junior, Will, and Jenny made their way out onto the pitch. Junior was only mildly surprised to see that he had a great natural flying ability; he got the seeker position over a gracious fourth year named Chris Major. 

Chris didn't seem too displeased. He had said that he needed to spend more time studying this term anyway. 

Jenny, to everybody's surprise, possessed a pretty good natural flying ability. She took a chaser position, filling in a spot recently vacated by a seventh year from the last year. 

Will got the beater position. His natural athleticism and developed hand-eye coordination had helped him with the position. Will had always been a sort of a jock. 

Will and Junior's newfound status as school athletes would probably make them more appealing to the females, they had joked with each other. Like they even needed it. Will had this way of talking to and treating girls--with the exception of Jenny--in a way that made them gravitate towards him. Junior had seen the way that some girls stole looks in Will's direction. That was fine with Junior, as long as Julie wasn't staring at Will. 

The week passed easily. Junior loved how he didn't have to separate himself from his two best friends for Quidditch practice. They were an inseparable bunch, and Junior didn't really ever want that to end. 

*** 

The first game of the school year was on the second Saturday after the students had arrived. The Gryffindors would be taking on Ravenclaw, whose seeker was the object of Junior's affection--Julie White. 

The whole week, Will had teased Junior about it. Eventually, Jenny got wind of it as well, and she teased Junior about it to an annoying degree. Junior felt fortunate that the match distracted him from his work and from his musings about the mysterious mirror. 

*** 

Saturday arrived, and the whole school turned out for the match. Junior had caught snippets of his parents' Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw discussions, but even his mother had sided with Gryffindor because of Junior. However, his mother, who had lived in Ravenclaw, could have mentioned that Ravenclaw had won the Quidditch cup the previous year. Both of his parents had given Junior their encouragement and had arrived to cheer him and the Gryffindors on. 

After a stirring motivational speech from Patrick, beaters Andy and Daniel gave their own short version of the pep talk. 

"Make them look bad," began Daniel solemnly. 

"And try to look good doing it," finished Andy. 

The Gryffindors and Ravenclaws walked onto the pitch to the roar of the crowd, Madame Poole blew the whistle, and the players kicked off the ground and into the air. 

After a few minutes of orienting himself to his new surroundings, Junior found himself staring at Julie. His focus was lost, and his interest in the game started to wane. She continued to scan the the entire area. Some screams were barely audible to him. It sounded as if they might have been shouting at him . . . 

"Ooof!" grunted Junior as a bludger hit him in the back of his right leg. The force spun him around full circle, and he knew that his loved ones would be concerned. 

"Junior! Pay attention!" shouted Patrick with irritation. 

"Are you okay?" asked Jenny worriedly as she flew over to him. 

"I'm fine," said Junior through gritted teeth. 

"Do you want a time out?" shouted Will nervously from the field. 

"No!" shouted Junior to Will. So maybe staring at the opposing Seeker in the middle of the game wasn't the smartest thing to do. He forced himself to concentrate and flew upwards, scouring the entire field as he did so. The Snitch hadn't been seen since those few seconds after it had been released. "Score?!" shouted Junior to no one in particular. 

"30-30!" shouted Will to him. 

Junior nodded and tried to find a hint of gold somewhere. Julie was doing the same. Suddenly, down below both of them, at a roughly equal distance from each Seeker, hovered the Golden Snitch. Both made dramatic dives. The wind in his hair and the whooshing sound he created gave him a thrill. The Snitch decided to get moving, and the chase was on. 

Up it soared, and then towards the Ravenclaw goalposts. Julie continued to track it, but Junior decided to break off the trail and try to cut it off as it came around the posts. He desperately hoped that it _would _hook around. Otherwise, the chance of catching up to Julie was pretty slim. 

Junior slashed through the sea of players in the center in his attempt to cross from one side of the field to the other. His eyes fixed on the Snitch to his right, he saw that Julie was gaining on it . . . But Junior's timing was still good. He made a sharp turn to his right, anticipating the Snitch to continue to curve around the post . . . There! It was breaking. He dashed for it, and Julie had some trouble making the sudden, sharp left turn. With a big grin on his face, Junior flew top speed towards it and outstretched his right hand. The roar of the crowd and the feel of the Snitch in his hands occurred almost simultaneously. 

"180 to 30, Gryffindor wins!" announced Scott. 

Not bad for his first game. His teammates rushed towards him with smiles on their faces. The pain in his leg was virtually gone. His eyes searched for Julie, who was just shaking her head at him. Her facial expression showed her obvious displeasure at losing, but it also showed that she knew she could have won. 

*** 

A/N: The fanfic author NS said in the wonderful poem "Quests and Questions" that "[Sirius] seeks revenge." That quote inspired the Sirius-Wormtail scene. I suffered when writing that scene but feel pride now for writing it. 


	7. Revelations and Reflections

Harry Jr_ and the Ministry's Secret Chapter 07 Disclaimer: I disown J.K. Rowling's characters, locations, and ideas. 

**Chapter 7: Revelations and Reflections**   


Junior's spirits were high after the victory over Ravenclaw. Gryffindor had placed second to Ravenclaw in the previous year, so it appeared that they were now the front-runners for the cup. 

A few weeks into the school year, Junior was now quite comfortable at Hogwarts. Homesickness was never a big issue. He and his siblings wrote to each other often, and he had a few classes with his Dad and with his Mum every week. 

In addition, Junior had great friendships at Hogwarts. Will, Jenny, and Charles were around him nearly all day, every day. They'd talk about Quidditch, which Charles was still trying to understand. Frequently, Junior, Will, and Jenny would all start to answer one of Charles' questions at exactly the same time. 

*** 

Today was Friday, and so Junior and his friends were in especially high spirits--despite having to attend double-potions at 3 PM. 

Herbology ended, and Junior and his friends made their way across the grounds and back towards the castle, chatting a mile a minute. 

"Junior!" It was a male voice that Junior recognized. 

Junior turned around with a smile. "Pallas! What's new?" The others turned around as well. Even Will didn't seem irritated. 

Pallas looked exceedingly nervous. "Can I . . . walk back with you?" 

"Sure," said Jenny. 

Junior and ht others voiced their agreement, and Pallas joined them. Plans for the weekend was the topic of discussion. 

Pallas had recently become a lot softer and more friendly and not just to him and his friends, but to everybody. Now, Pallas was nervous, when it always had appeared that Pallas oozed confidence. Junior suddenly felt inexplicably uncomfortable. 

" . . . and so the second years and up are going to Hogsmeade," Junior caught Will say. 

"What's Hogsmeade?" asked Charles. 

"Until recently, it was the only all-wizarding community in England," Pallas said before anyone else could answer. There was no condescension in his voice. 

"But . . . won't we lose that?" blurted out Charles. "I mean . . . I'm all for the conference . . . but it appears that with the merging of the two worlds, communities like that won't last." 

"No," blurted out Jenny. Junior and the others turned to look at her. "The might still exist," she continued. "And in the future they won't have anything to hide." 

Once again, Jenny had the strongest argument. Junior turned his eyes back tot he castle, which they had nearly reached, and then back to the others. 

Junior watched them, and then he instantly saw why Pallas was so nervous and yet so excited. Pallas was staring at Jenny with the gentlest of expressions. 

*** 

Potions class was tolerable. Pallas was second to Jenny in completing the potion, but Jenny had learned not to say anything and just let Pallas have the points. As Pallas left, he flashed a smile at Junior's group. They found him waiting outside in the hall for them when they finally left the room. 

Junior and his friends felt like enjoying an early dinner. Pallas declined the invitation, saying he had already committed to a later dinner. He walked with them towards the Great hall. 

"Junior," said Pallas tentatively as they approached the Hall's entrance. 

"Yes?" said Junior. 

"Could I . . . speak to you for a second?" 

Junior looked at the others, and they had no objections. He told them he'd meet them in a bit, and then stayed behind for Palls. 

"Junior," began Pallas. "I . . . should just be out with it. I really like Jenny." Pallas looked up at Junior. "Do you . . . .like her too?" 

"Not in the same way," Junior said. 

"Okay," said Pallas. "Well, based on a few signals, I think she likes me too." Pallas smiled, but Junior suddenly felt a strange, numbing feeling in the pit of his stomach. "The problem," Pallas continued, "is that I mentioned this in a letter to my mother and . . . she doesn't approve. You know, Jenny's parents and the Ministry are _the enemy_. And this seems like a really bad time to upset her. You know, her being recently . . . widowed and all." Pallas looked torn between anger and pity. 

Junior didn't know what to say. Now he knew that his theory was true, and it explained the new, friendlier Pallas. Pallas _had_ been treating Jenny especially kindly over the last several days, being terribly interested in her without ever prying. "But I thought," began Junior. "I thought that you were _also_ against Minister Weasley's efforts." 

Pallas was visibly taken aback. "Junior," he said. "I . . . don't know what I believe. I know what my mother believes, and you can't blame me for not wanting to upset her. But I wasn't just humoring her; I have my doubts about the process. But Jenny is . . . _wonderful_. She's a light. If Mr. and Mrs. Weasley raised her, then they can't be so bad. But, you _do _see my problem?" 

"Well," said Junior uncertainly. "You could try to reason with her . . ." 

Pallas chuckled bitterly. "My mother isn't like yours. Your mother loves to be a mother. She took the job last year so someone could replace McGonagall, right?" 

Junior nodded. He could see where this was going. 

"And your mother will go back to writing at home when they find someone to replace her, right?" continued Pallas. 

Junior nodded again. 

"My mother," Pallas continued, "I think she works so much partly to avoid me and her maternal responsibility. Money is not an issue, of course. She doesn't have the patience to listen to me reason with her." 

"Pallas," began Junior, desperately wanting to wrap this up. "you're only 11. Maybe you should forget about any romantic feelings for Jen. There's plenty of girls out there." 

"None of them are like Jenny," said Pallas sadly. He looked at his watch. "I'm sorry for taking so much of your time. Thanks, and enjoy your dinner." Junior nodded, and Pallas walked off with his head down. 

Junior watched Pallas leave, and then he was overcome with a barrage of conflicting emotions. After regaining control of himself, he entered the Great Hall to find his friends. 

*** 

Among Junior's emotions, pity ultimately won. Why did Pallas confide in _him_? Maybe Pallas was afraid of Will's reaction. Will did tend to protect Jenny a little too much sometimes, and Pallas wasn't exactly Will's favorite person. 

Also, Jenny was Junior's friend. And if she would be happy with Pallas, then . . . well, how _could_ she be happy with Pallas? The kid was driven, humorless, and constantly serious. Or . . . had he changed? Well . . . yes, he had. In that case, Junior would keep Pallas' secret and try to help his friend out. 

*** 

At practice that night, Junior found keeping quiet more difficult than he had anticipated. Perhaps he wanted to know exactly how Jenny felt, or perhaps not. Why should he care? After all, he told the truth when he told Pallas that he only liked her as a friend. 

*** 

After practice and quite a bit of Friday night socializing, Junior and his friends finally went to sleep. 

Late the next morning, they forced themselves to get to breakfast on time--if only to get the mail as soon as possible. 

*** 

During breakfast, Pallas walked over to them. 

"Mind if I sit here?" he asked glumly. 

"Sure," said Junior, and Pallas took the empty seat next to Junior. 

"Hey Pallas," said Jenny, but her eyes were on the Daily Prophet. Suddenly, she looked up. "You guys won't believe this," she breathed. 

"What is it?" asked Will. 

"Here," said Jenny solemnly, and then she passed the paper to Will. 

Will read it aloud: 

**Ministry Thwarts Attempted Terrorist Attack**

**Around 12:00 AM this morning, a group of ten Muggles who identify themselves only as the Truth were captured before initiating an armed attack on the Ministry itself. The Truth were armed with rifles, a type of gun, and were approaching from the back. Minister of Justice Clark's division, acting on an anonymous tip, were waiting when the terrorists arrived. Only a few stunning spells were required, and the terrorists did not fire a shot. The terrorists say the attack was an attempted raid, in which they would "show everybody what the Ministry was actually planning and what they are capable of." If the Ministry had not been prepared, then the attack could have had disastrous consequences. The captured terrorists are currently being questioned at the Ministry.**

"An attack on the Ministry?" asked Charles incredulously. "That doesn't sound very smart." 

"No," said Will. "One experienced wizard could easily handle ten Muggles with rifles--given that he was prepared." 

Did Will know what he was saying--and who was here? Apparently not. Junior's jaw dropped. 

"Excuse me," said Pallas, and he began to leave, his breakfast mostly unfinished. 

"Pallas, wait!" exclaimed Junior as he got up quickly. He gave Will a look that said, _Will, you blockhead_. Suddenly, Will looked as if he realized what he had said. It took him long enough. 

Junior put a hand on Pallas' shoulder. "Will didn't know what he was saying, Pallas, honestly he didn't." 

Pallas continued to look away, but he nodded. "It's okay," he said without much vigor. 

"I'm sorry," said Will solemnly. "I really am. That kind of thing just shouldn't be talked about." 

Suddenly, an alarming thought crept into Junior's head--an overwhelming thought. Will's words swam around in Junior's brain, and he tried to contain his excitement. 

"Everybody meet me outside the transfig classroom at 7 PM--tonight," said Junior loud enough for only them to hear. 

There were looks of confusion, but nobody questioned the order. 

*** 

Pallas and the Gryffindors ended up eating dinner at roughly the same time. Pallas talked with two people at the Slytherin table who appeared to be acquaintances of his--a boy and a girl of roughly thirteen years of age. Pallas' eyes kept darting back to Junior's table, but was it to communicate his presence or to steal glances at Jenny? 

They met at the entrance of the Great Hall after dinner. 

"Right, follow me," said Junior to them, and they headed towards the transfig classroom. 

"What exactly are you thinking?" asked Jenny. 

"Remember the mirror?" asked Junior. 

All the others said yes, except for Pallas. 

Junior sighed, and then explained the entire incident along the way. 

"All right," said Pallas slowly. "So that's how you learned you spoke Parselmouth. Us other students never really figured that out." 

Jenny suddenly stared at Junior with mouth agape. "Are you saying . . . the unspeakable act--" 

"--yes, he is," said Will. "Let's get to that later, okay?" 

They continued in silence toward the classroom. 

*** 

The painting was there as expected, and the riddle was the same. 

Junior hissed the answer, and they all descended the stairs and made their way to the mirror. Junior placed his hand in the imprint to open the lock, but this time he had a band-aid to cover the wound. 

"Mirror," said Junior. 

"Greetings, dual heir," bellowed the mirror. 

Pallas looked startled by the volume of its voice. 

Junior looked at Will, Jenny, and Charles sternly, and they gravitated toward Pallas. Okay, this had better work . . . 

"Richard Moore," said Junior. 

There was a flash of light from the mirror, and then the lush interior of a room showed in the glass. Then he saw Pallas sitting on a brown, leather couch, and then a thin woman in her thirties who must be Mrs. Karen Moore. Junior was looking through the eyes of Richard Moore in the Moores' living room. 

"I don't think the Muggles really care about peace," said Mrs. Moore. "Look at their guns, their constant wars, and their environmental destruction in the name of money. Then there's the Salem Witch trials, and who knows how many other instances of the persecution of wizards and witches in history . . . " 

Pallas started to say something. All he had to say was that we wizards have the same things--our own prejudices, discrimination . . . But Pallas said nothing, as if a dissenting opinion would not be appreciated. Instead, he looked at an unseen object, as if he was staring out the mirror. Junior could tell that Pallas must have been looking at his father. "Father," said the Pallas in the reflection. "You look troubled." 

"Yes, well, there's something I've discovered about the Ministry . . . " Suddenly, Mr. Moore's eyes fixed on a window. Some shapes approached the house. 

Moore stood up suddenly. "Get . . . get out of here!" he exclaimed desperately. They looked up at him with stunned expressions. "That's an order! Go!" 

"Richard--" began Mrs. Moore, but then she took a resisting Pallas with her out of the room. A door slammed from that direction a moment later. 

Suddenly, it sounded as if the front door had burst open, and then several men shrouded in cloaks entered the room. Most unusually, there were two men with blank expressions, Muggle clothes, and . . . shotguns? Mr. Moore stared at them, probably frozen in fear. After a total of eight men had entered, a tall man entered regally; he was probably the leader. 

The leader pulled back his pitch-black cloak to reveal a face just recognizable to Junior . . . the face of Minister David Clark. 

"Richard," said Clark. 

"David," said Mr. Moore threateningly. "Looks like you've brought your fellow followers with you." 

"Ah, I'd figured you found out about our little . . . secret society," said Clark with a wicked smile. "This will be an example of 'killing two birds with one stone', then." Clark's cloaked associates snickered. 

"What are the Muggles doing here?" demanded Mr. Moore. The two Muggles continued to look oblivious to everything. 

Clark glanced at them. "Two Muggles who hate wizards. They're members of some hate group--you should see the propaganda in their houses--but without any violent history. That is, until I order them, in their current Imperius Cursed state, to kill you." 

"So then you and the other who-knows-how-many followers in the Ministry can frame my death on Muggles, which will incite those opposed to the conference--the Separatists." 

"Naturally." 

"Possibly leading to more widespread anti-Ministry sentiment, then the resignation of your unknowing enemy Weasley, and finally your rise to the position of Minister of Magic. How _petty_." 

"Petty?" spat Clark. "It's not for me, but for the One I serve. I will appear to take over where Weasley leaves off, and bide my time. Did you know that only the Minister of Magic is authorized to use a special magical object--the Rune of Wisdom? It gives wise counsel to the owner. On the night of September 22nd--the autumnal equinox--I will take it to my Master. He will be waiting in an open field, and we will use an ancient spell to transform the Rune of Wisdom into its hidden self--the Rune of Shadow. At midnight, the Rune of Shadow will release its energy, and then we shall see the rise of the Lord of Night and Day, the future sovereign over all creatures, Daius Nightfall." 

"Nightfall?" echoed Mr. Moore uncertainly. 

"Yes, he will become sovereign over the wizards, and he will lead us as in crushing the inferior Muggles. The cowards and dissenters will be put to death." Clark looked at the others with a wicked smile, and they nodded back at him. "Now, it's time for you to die, Richard." 

Mr. Moore had already quickly pointed his wand towards Clark. "Expelliar--" 

Two simultaneous shotgun blasts sounded, and instantly the mirror went black. 

*** 

Junior frantically tried to put the pieces together. The Muggles killed Moore under Clark's Imperio. Clark wants to become the Minister of Magic so that . . . 

"Junior, what did you see?" Charles asked, interrupting Junior's train of thought. 

"Excuse me?" said Junior uncertainly. Then something hit him. Oh please, let it not be true . . . 

"We couldn't see anything," clarified Jenny. "We could only hear. So _who's _David?" 

"Minister David Clark," said Junior. 

Everybody else gasped simultaneously. 

Jenny broke the silence. "No . . . it can't be . . . my father can't have anything to do with it . . . " 

"No," said Will. "Your Dad's 'the unknowing enemy' of Clark--Mr. Moore said so." 

He and the other Gryffindors suddenly looked at Pallas. His face was like steel, but he must have been feeling intensely emotional. 

"The Muggles," said Pallas. "Do you know what the Muggles who were convicted look like?" 

"Not exactly . . . " said Junior. 

"I know _every single feature_. Now, tell me _every detail _you remember of the ones you saw, while it's still fresh in your mind." 

Junior wasn't surprised that Pallas had learned so much about the people who, he had thought, had killed his father. Junior mentioned all that he knew. 

"It's a perfect match," said Pallas, whose stoic expression surely hid both excitement and pain. 

"Let's get out of here," said Charles. 

Junior kept sorting and re-sorting the mirror's information as they walked--in an effort to keep his facts straight. 

A loud, yet somewhat familiar sound stopped them in their tracks. It sounded as if it had come from a spot between their current location and the steps that led to the painting. 

"Only the Dual Heir may witness," threatened a scratchy voice. It sounded like the voice of an unseen Mupa. 

"W- . . . we didn't see anything!" exclaimed Will. 

"But you heard," said the creature. 

The floor shook somewhat, and loud footsteps were heard. The creature stepped into the light, baring its teeth. It was like a Mupa, only wingless, and fifty times larger. 

"The others may pass," it continued. "If they prove themselves first." 

Junior wasn't in the mood for this. A quick glance at the others told him that they all felt the same way. "On the count of three," said Junior as he raised his wand. The creature stared at them quizzically. "One . . . two . . . three!" 

"PETRIFICUS!" they all exclaimed simultaneously. A tremendous boom reverberated around the room, and five beams of light hit the creature at once. It turned into stone. 

Junior mentally thanked his Dad. 

"Run!" shouted Will, but they had all already begun to do so. 

"Someone reanimate it," commanded Jenny uncertainly as they ran past it. 

"No way," said Will. They all reached the top of the stairs and then pushed the painting open. 

*** 

--May 20, 2001. Philip "Pottermaniac" Gonzales.   
  



	8. Time to Say Goodbye

Harry Jr_ and the Ministry's Secret Chapter 08 Disclaimer: I don't own J.K. Rowling's characters, ideas, or locations. 

**Chapter 8: Time to Say Goodbye**

Junior emerged from the portrait hole after his friends. When he finally saw his friends in the hallway, he saw that they were frozen there. 

"What?" asked Junior, still full of adrenaline. 

"Hi, son." Junior didn't have to look up to see who spoke. 

"Hi Dad," said Junior. His father had a stern expression on his face. Junior gulped; he was in trouble. 

Then his father's features softened, and a smile formed on his father's face. "Couldn't wait up, could you?" teased his father. Junior and the others let out simultaneous sighs of relief. Junior had disobeyed his father, but perhaps his father would have done the same thing at his age. "Now tell me everything," his father said sternly. 

Junior gulped again. His friends nodded at him. "Okay," said Junior, and then he obeyed--not leaving anything out. 

His father did not look too surprised, but his father _had _seen a lot. "So now what?" his father asked. 

It seemed obvious to Junior. "You tell Mr. Weasley directly," said Junior matter-of-factly. "Because we don't know who else to trust at the Ministry. Then Mr. Weasley exposes Clark and the other bad guys." 

"No," croaked Jenny. "Junior, what if . . . " 

Will finished for her. "What if the embarrassment forces Mr. Weasley's resignation anyway?" 

Junior thought about it. Mr. Weasley, Jenny, and Will all had his friendship. And the possible stop to the conferences . . . and the Muggles in jail _did _pose at threat to the wizarding community . . . and . . . "How powerful could this Nightfall person be?" 

"I haven't heard of either Nightfall or the Rune of Shadow," said his father. "Nightfall sounds like a fake name." 

A battle of ideas raged in Junior's head. Perhaps, although at great sacrifice, they could defeat Nightfall . . . but what might he risk? . . . what tragic loss could he live with? And then he thought of the Moores'--not a very close family, but a family nonetheless. Clark had killed the father and had forever changed the survivors' lives. And Pallas . . . wounded, too scarred to risk showing any emotion save a love--a forbidden love for a girl named Jenny. 

"Junior," said Jenny, disrupting Junior's train of thought. "Would you risk . . . my father's career?" 

Junior had made up his mind. "Yes," he said firmly, even though it hurt terribly to say it to her. 

And then Jenny began to sob, and Junior suddenly felt sick. When Jenny finally spoke, she spoke with unprecedented bitterness. "You and your heroic aspirations!" Junior's father's presence had not deterred her. 

Junior stared at her, fighting back tears of his own. But if he had to lose her friendship, then . . . so be it. But he had to say something. "J- . . . Jen--" 

But Jenny had already cut him off by throwing her arms around him. She began to cry on his shoulder, and Junior helplessly patted her on the back. 

"Thank you," she finally said, "for doing the right thing." 

*** 

Junior's father obtained Snape's permission to take Junior and Pallas with him that night. They flew by broomstick to the Ministry, where they went directly to Mr. Weasley and told him everything. 

"I believe you," said Mr. Weasley after they had finished. "I've long suspected that Clark is a no-good git. A few trusted agents of mine and I will pin him by the end of the week, I'm sure. The two Muggles will be released, but we'll keep an eye on them. You were right to go to me first." 

"And what about you, Ron?" asked Junior's father with concern. 

"Don't worry about me," said Mr. Weasley cryptically. 

"I always worry about you," said Junior's father. The two men laughed, but Junior wondered what made Mr. Weasley so confident. 

"And The Truth?" asked Pallas. 

"They might be related to the hate group that the Muggle brothers belonged to. Or maybe Clark set it all up to boost his reputation. We'll look into it." 

"And Alicia Wilson and the wizard protesters?" asked Junior's father. "Any connection to Nightfall?" 

"We'll see," said Mr. Weasley. "Clark only wanted to stay in power for roughly a week. Maybe Wilson was trying to stir up anti-Muggle sentiment before Nightfall's planned rise to power." He smiled at Junior and Pallas. "We'll need you two during the next week--to answer a few questions and testify. This should be quick, believe me." 

*** 

The next few editions of the Daily Prophet showed that Mr. Weasley kept his promises--and worked fast. Clark and the other followers were exposed and convicted for the murder of Mr. Moore and various other crimes. The Muggle brothers were convicted of several instances of illegal hexing of Muggles. Alicia Wilson and her fellow protesters disappeared, and Mr. Weasley's newly trimmed Ministry was likely tracking her down. 

Junior and his friends finished the year strongly. The Quidditch Cup went to the undefeated Gryffindors, thanks mainly to Junior. Pallas led the Slytherins to second place finish, save two losses to Junior: one in the regular season and one in the playoff game. Jenny finished as the top student in the class, with Pallas second, and Junior and the others included in the top ten. 

The end of the year banquet arrived before they knew it. Junior and the others stuffed themselves with food, and then Headmaster Snape addressed the school. 

"Another year at Hogwarts draws to a close. As you know, the rise of a new, powerful Dark Wizard was thwarted. This wizard, who calls himself Daius Nightfall, would have brought about a terrible war, if not for the efforts of one of our students who wishes to remain nameless." 

Everyone started talking at once. Junior couldn't believe that Snape had decided to mention the last part. 

Snape cleared his throat impatiently, and silence filled the room. "In honor of his accomplishment and bravery, I grant 100 points, and, thus, the House Cup to this student's house: the House of Gryffindor." 

The Gryffindor table erupted in applause and words of jubilation, for none of them expected this final point adjustment. In fact, they had all accepted Slytherin's narrow edge on them for first place. Junior's Gryffindor friends and Pallas in the Slytherin table all flashed Junior knowing smiles, and Junior felt proud. He saw so many of the Gryffindors ask each other who the hero could be. 

He had arrived at Hogwarts looking for fame, but, in the end, he had ultimately denied himself the glory. He didn't need it, and he didn't want Nightfall hunting him down. 

When calmness finally returned to the Great Hall, Snape continued. "Our transfiguration professor, Professor Potter, has resigned after two years of admirable teaching." 

Applause filled the room. Junior's mother stood up smiling and waved, mouthing _thank you _as she did so. Junior saw that Andy, Marcus, and several other boys looked on the verge of tears. The applause finally died down, and then Snape resumed his closing remarks. 

"Professor Potter will be replaced by another excellent professor, a Lisa White. Enjoy the banquet, and we will see you all next year." 

*** 

Junior didn't want the Hogwarts Express train ride to end. Junior, Will, Jenny, Pallas, and Charles tried to make the most of the last few hours. 

When Junior and the others stepped off the train and onto Platform 9 3/4, he suddenly saw a girl with long, straight black hair. 

"Julie!" Junior exclaimed as he approached her, revealing more enthusiasm in his voice than intended. 

Julie turned around with a smile on her face. "Hi, Junior!" 

"Julie, is the new transfig prof--" 

"My mother? Yes, she is. Strange coincidence, huh? My mother taking over for your Mum, that is." 

"Yes," said Junior. "Though I suppose the boys will be just as distracted in the class," he blurted out. Suddenly, he felt extremely embarrassed, and he tried to recover. "I mean, considering how you . . . " 

Julie just grinned at him with amusement. "You can say it, Junior. You think I'm pretty. That's why you think my Mum's probably pretty, too." 

So she knew! 

"If you ever feel like writing me," she continued. "I'd appreciate it very much." 

Junior felt his cheeks go scarlet. "Okay," he managed before quickly returning to his friends. 

His friends dissolved into hysterics when he told them what had just happened. Then Junior held back the tears as they said their good-byes, and then Junior began to head for his waiting, smiling family. 

"Junior," he suddenly heard Pallas say. 

Junior turned around. Will, Jenny, and Charles had already reached their families; Pallas had the opportunity for a private word. "Yes, Pallas?" asked Junior. 

Pallas spoke in an unnecessarily low voice. "Thanks for saving my chance--my chance for a relationship with Jenny." 

"Oh," said Junior. "No problem." 

Pallas half smiled, and then he waved his mother over. 

Mrs. Moore dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief as she reached Junior, and then she took Junior's hand and shook it warmly. "Pallas and I are so grateful," she said as tears streaked down her face. 

Her suffering moved Junior. "You're welcome," he said solemnly. 

Pallas took his mother away, looking over his shoulder along the way to flash a smile at Junior. 

Finally, Junior returned to his family, and they bombarded him with hugs and questions. 

"Who's the dark-haired girl?" asked Bobby. 

"Julie White, a Ravenclaw," said Junior knowingly. 

"And the tall, dark boy?" asked Emily mischievously. 

"Pallas Moore," said Junior. "A Slytherin, and a great friend." 

They continued to talk incessantly as they boarded the flying van and as Junior's father drove them all back to Godric's Hollow. 

*** 

A/N: Thanks to all the reviewers, and I hope that you all enjoyed this. 

Yes, the chapter title comes from the beautiful song "Time to Say Goodbye" from Andrea Bocelli and Sarah Brightman. 

I can't guarantee full-length fics for Junior's next six years, though I do have some definite ideas planned for year four. Perhaps I'll just do years four and seven. 

Or maybe somebody else wants to write some of it for me? Just ask, and, other than giving you a few guidelines, I'll let you do whatever you want with the characters. Please be nice . . . 

--May 23, 2001. Philip "Pottermaniac" Gonzales. 


End file.
